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ROUGHING  IT  SERIES. 


GEORGE  IN  CAMP 


OR, 


LIFE  ON  THE  PLAINS. 


HARRY   CASTLEMON, 


AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  GUNBOAT  SERIES,"  "  THE  FRANK  NELSON 
TRAPPER  SERIES,"  ftC. 


SERIES,"  "THB  BOF 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
PORTER    &    COATES, 


!"ff 

FAMOUS  CASTLEMON  BOOKS. 


GUNBOAT  SERIES.     By  HARRY  CASTLKMON.     Illustrated.     6  vols. 

Ib'mo.     Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 

FRANK  THE  YOUNG  NATURALIST.  PRANK  ON  A  GUNBOAT.  FRANK 
IN  THE  WOODS.  FRANK  BEFORE  VICKSBURG.  FRANK  ON  THE  LOWEI. 
MISSISSIPPI.  FRANK  ON  THE  PRAIRIE. 

ROCKY    MOUNTAIN    SERIES.       By    HARRY    CASTLEMON. 

Illustrated.    3  vols.    lOuio.    Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
FRANK  AMONG  THE  RANCH  EROS. 
FRANK  AT  DON  CARLOS'  RANCHO. 
FRANK  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS. 

SPORTSMAN'S    CLUB    SERIES.      By   HARRY    CASTLEMON. 
Illustrated.     3  vols.     lOmo.     Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
THE  SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  IN  THE  SADDLE. 
THE  SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  AFLOAT. 
THE  SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  AMONG  THE  TRAPPERS. 

GO-AHEAD    SERIES.      By   HARRY    CASTLEMON.      Illustrated.      3 

vols.     ICino.     Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
TOM  NEW-COMBE.     GO-AHEAD.     No  Moss. 

FRANK  NELSON  SERIES.     By  HARRY  CASTLEMON.     Illustrated. 

3  vols.     Ifimo.    Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
SNOWED  UP.     FRANK  IN  THE  FORECASTLE.     BOY  TRADERS. 

BOY    TRAPPER   SERIES.      By   HARRY   CASTLEMON.     Illustrated., 

3  vols.     16mo.     Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
THE  BURIED  TREASURE;  OR,  OLD  JORDAN'S  HAUNT. 
THE  BOY  TRAPPER;  OR,  How  DAVE  FILLED  THE  ORDER. 
THE  MAIL-CARRIER. 

ROUGHING-  IT    SERIES.      By    HARRY    CASTLEMON.      Illustrated. 

16ino.     Cloth,  extra,  black  and  gold. 
GEORGE  IN  CAMP. 


Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1879,  by 

PORTER  &  COATES, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Or  ^ 
1*71 
(V)  ft  I 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Among  the  Texans Page  5 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Neighborhood  Row        ........      19 

CHAPTER  III. 
Ned's  Experience  in  Camp .30 

CHAPTER  IV. 
A  Discontented  Boy 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Clerk's  Ruse       .        .        .        .        .        .        .  .70 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Frontier  Hotel        .        .        . 87 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Zeke's  Letter     .        .        .        . 109 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Ned's  New  Horse .        .         .128 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Visit  from  the  Raiders 150 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Two  Friends 172 

(iii) 


M150480 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Gus  Hears  from  Home Page  192 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Narrow  Escape      .........     215 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
George  has  Company  236 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Good  and  Bad  News 257 

CHAPTER  XV. 
What  Happened  at  the  Rancho 282 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Caught  at  Last !        .        .        . 304 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Conclusion 325 


GEORGE  ffl  CAMP; 

OR, 

LIFE   ON  THE  PLAINS. 


I 


CHAPTER  I. 

AMONG  THE   TEXANS. 

don't  like  the  way  things  are  going  at  all,  and  I 
just  wish  those  two  people  were  back  where 
they  came  from.  They  have  turned  the  ranche 
upside  down  since  they  have  been  here,  and  now  I 
begin  to  feel  as  though  they  were  the  masters,  and 
that  I  have  no  more  rights  than  a  tramp  who  had 
dropped  in  to  beg  a  night's  lodging !" 

The  speaker,  a  sturdy,  broad-shouldered  youth, 
about  fifteen  years  of  age,  was  sitting  on  the  porch 
in  front  of  the  house  in  which  he  lived,  busily  en 
gaged  in  mending  a  broken  bridle  with  an  awl  and 
a  piece  of  waxed-end.  His  name  was  George  Acker- 
man,  and  he  was  one  of  the  boys  whom  we  intro- 

(v) 


OR, 

duced  to  the  notice  of  the  reader  in  the  concluding 
volume  of  the  "  Boy  Trapper  Series,"  and  of  whose 
adventures  and  exploits  we  promised  to  say  some 
thing  more  than  we  said  then.  We  find  him  now  at 
his  home  in  Texas,  where  he  had  been  born,  and 
where  he  had  always  lived,  with  the  exception  of  the 
two  years  he  had  passed  in  a  distant  city  attending 
school.  He  was  dressed,  as  all  the  boys  and  men  in 
that  country  were  dressed,  for  hard  work ;  and  he 
had  done  a  good  deal  of  it  during  his  comparatively 
short  life — not  because  it  was  necessary,  but  because 
he  had  been  brought  up  to  it.  His  father  was  very 
wealthy — no  one  knew  how  many  horses  and  cattle 
he  owned — and  he  had  left  a  property  worth  between 
thirty  and  forty  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

If  money  is  what  makes  people  happy,  one  would 
suppose  that  George  Ackerman  ought  to  be  one  of 
the  happiest  boys  in  the  world ;  and  so  he  was,  up  to 
the  time  his  only  parent  died,  which  was  about  a 
year  and  a  half  previous  to  the  beginning  of  our 
gtory  He  had  everything  a  boy  could  possibly  wish 
for — good  health,  a  kind  and  indulgent  father,  a 
comfortable  and  happy  home,  and  all  the  other  aids 
to  complete  happiness  so  dear  to  the  heart  of  most 
boys,  and  for  which  Bob  Owens  and  Dan  Evans  so 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  7 

impatiently  longed — such   as   horses,   dogs,  jointed 
fish-poles  and  breech-loading  guns.     He  had  made  a 
start  in  business   for  himself,  and  was  thought  by 
the  boys  of  his  acquaintance  to  be  pretty  well  off  in 
the  world.     He  began  when  he  was  only  nine  years 
old,  by  herding  cattle  for  his  father  at  forty  dollars 
a  month,  taking  his  pay  in  young  stock  which  he 
selected  himself.     These  increased  in  numbers  and 
value  during  the  two  years  he  was  away  at  school, 
and  now  he  was  the  owner  of  three  hundred  head 
of  cattle  which  he   had  paid  for  by  his  own  labor, 
and  which  he   could  have  sold  any  day  for  twenty 
dollars  apiece.     He  had  a  herdsman  of  his  own  and 
colts  enough  to  mount  all  the  cronies  he  had  left  at 
school,  and  who  had  faithfully  promised  to  visit  him 
at  no  distant  day  in  his  far-away  home.     It  was  two 
years  and  more  since  he  parted  from  those  same 
cronies,  and  not  one  of  them  had  ever  been  to  see 
him.     He  never  heard  from  them  now.     His  corre 
spondents  had  dropped  off,  one  after  the  other,  until 
he  had  not  a  single  one  remaining.     His  father  was 
gone,  too,  and  poor  George  felt  much  as  he  would 
have   felt   if    he    had   been    dropped   suddenly    on 
Robinson  Crusoe's  lonely  island,  without  even  a  man 
Friday  to  keep  him  company. 


8  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

It  is  true,  that  there  were  plenty  of  people  around 
him.  His  Uncle  John  and  Cousin  Ned  lived  in  the 
same  house  with  him,  and  there  were  a  score  or  more 
of  men,  Americans  arid  Mexicans,  employed  on  the 
rauche  as  house-servants  and  herdsmen.  He  had 
four  playmates  close  at  hand — that  is,  two  of  them 
lived  five  miles  east  of  him  and  the  others  eight 
miles  west — and  they  were  jolly  fellows  and  he  liked 
to  be  in  their  company.  The  time  never  hung 
heavily  on  his  hands,  for  he  was  very  industrious,  and 
could  always  find  something  useful  to  do ;  but  still 
he  was  lonely  and  homesick  every  hour  in  the  day. 
The  old  house  was  not  the  same  now  that  it  was 
during  his  father's  lifetime.  Uncle  John  had  built 
additions  to  it,  rearranged  the  inside  of  it  to  suit 
himself,  and  filled  it  with  the  most  expensive  fur 
niture,  such  as  had  never  been  seen  in  the  wilds  of 
Texas  before. 

Uncle  John  and  his  son,  who  dressed  as  fashion 
ably  now  as  they  did  when  they  came  from  the 
States,  and  who  took  as  much  pains  with  their  toilet 
as  a  couple  of  city  dandies  would  have  done,  were 
very  much  pleased  with  the  new  order  of  things. 
They  seemed  to  have  been  made  for  no  other  pur 
pose  than  to  idle  away  their  time  on  the  luxurious 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  9 

sofas  and  easy-chairs  with  which  the  old  rancho 
was  now  so  plentifully  supplied ;  but  George,  with 
his  heavy  cowhide  boots,  coarse  clothing  and  sun- 
browned  face  and  hands,  was  sadly  out  of  place 
among  them. 

Uncle  John  Ackerman  lived  somewhere  in  the 
state  of  Ohio.  He  was  a  poor  man,  and,  up  to  the 
time  of  the  death  of  his  only  brother,  George's 
father,  was  obliged  to  work  hard  for  his  living. 
That  sad  event,  which  brought  so  much  sorrow  and 
trouble  to  George,  was  the  making  of  Uncle  John, 
for  the  time  being.  It  took  him  and  his  scapegrace 
of  a  son  from  a  life  of  toil  and  placed  them  just 
where  they  had  always  wanted  to  be — in  a  position 
to  live  without  work.  Uncle  John  was  made  his 
nephew's  guardian  and  the  executor  of  his  brother's 
will,  and  to  him  the  property  was  left  in  trust,  to 
be  cared  for  and  managed  for  George  until  the 
latter  became  of  age,  when  it  was  to  be  turned  over 
to  him,  less  a  certain  sum,  which  Uncle  John  was 
at  liberty  to  keep  in  payment  for  his  services.  If 
George  died  before  reaching  his  majority,  Ned 
Ackerman,  Uncle  John's  son,  was  to  be  the  heir. 

As  soon  as  the  terms  of  the  will  were  made 
known,  Uncle  John  and  Ned  hastened  to  Texas, 


10 

and  took  up  their  abode  at  the  rancho.  At  first, 
everything  passed  off  smoothly.  George  could  see 
nothing  to  admire  in  either  one  of  his  relatives, 
whom  he  had  met  but  once  before ;  but  still  he  did 
not  absolutely  dislike  them,  until  Ned  began  to 
show,  both  by  words  and  actions,  that  he  considered 
himself  the  lawful  master  of  the  ranche  and  every 
thing  belonging  to  it,  and  that  George  had  no 
rights  that  he  or  his  father  were  bound  to  respect. 
One  change  after  another  was  introduced,  in  spite 
of  all  the  rightful  owner  could  say  or  do  to  prevent 
it,  until  at  last  the  old  house  was  so  changed  in 
appearance,  both  inside  and  out,  that  George  could 
hardly  recognise  it  as  his  home.  Then  he  grew 
angry  and  almost  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would 
strike  out  for  himself,  and  live  on  the  prairie,  with 
his  cattle  and  his  herdsman,  as  a  good  many  of  the 
early  settlers  had  done  before  him. 

But  the  fact  that  his  cousin  Ned  was  gradually- 
crowding  him  to  the  wall,  and  usurping  the  place 
that  George  himself  ought  to  have  held  in  the 
house,  was  not  the  only  thing  that  troubled  the 
young  rancheman.  That  was  bad  enough,  but  it 
was  accompanied  by  something  worse.  If  he  was 
snubbed  and  kept  in  the  background  by  his  rela- 


LIFE    ON    TIIE    PLAINS.  11 

lives  wliile  at  home,  he  was  treated  but  little,  if 
any,  better  by  the  people,  both  young  and  old,  who 
lived  in  the  settlement,  and  that  was  what  hurt 
him.  He  was  acquainted  with  almost  every  farmer 
and  rancheman  in  the  county,  and,  until  lately,  he 
had  always  been  very  popular  among  them ;  but 
when  Uncle  John  and  his  son  arrived  his  troubles 
began.  The  neighbors  would  have  nothing  what 
ever  to  do  with  the  newcomers.  They  would  not 
even  notice  them  when  they  met  them  on  the  high 
way,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  began  to 
extend  the  same  treatment  to  George  himself. 

The  young  cattle-herder  could  not  imagine  what 
it  was  that  caused  this  change,  until  one  day,  while 
lie  was  riding  to  Palos,  to  purchase  some  supplies 
for  himself  and  his  hired  man,  he  met  one  of  his 
young  friends,  who,  instead  of  stopping  to  talk 
with  him,  as  he  usually  did,  simply  bowed  and  put 
spurs  to  his  horse,  as  if  he  were  in  a  hurry  to  pass 
by  him ;  but  George  reined  his  own  nag  across  the 
trail  and  stopped  him. 

"Now,  Hank  Short,"  said  he,  "I  want  to  know 
what  you  mean  by  such  work  as  this  ?  What's  the 
reason  that  you  and  the  other  fellows  never  come  to 
see  me  any  more,  and  that  you  take  pains  to  pass 


12  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

me  in  this  fashion  ?  Do  you  take  me  for  a  horse- 
thief?" 

This,  according  to  a  Texas  boy's  way  of  think 
ing,  was  the  worst  term  of  reproach  that  could  be 
applied  to  anybody.  In  Nantucket,  if  they  want  to 
convey  the  impression  that  a  man  is  utterly  detest 
able,  they  say  he  is  mean  enough  to  "mix  oil." 
In  Massachusetts,  he  will  "rob  a  hen-roost,"  and 
in  Texas,  he  will  "steal  horses." 

"Everybody  in  the  settlement  seems  to  have 
gone  back  on  me  since  my  father  died,"  said 
George,  bitterly,  "and  I  don't  know  what  to  think 
of  it.  Now,  Hank,  you  can't  go  by  here  until  you 
tell  me  what  I  have  done  to  make  all  the  folks 
angry  at  me.  As  soon  as  I  know  what  it  is,  I  will 
try  to  make  amends  for  it." 

"You  haven't  done  anything,"  was  Hank's 
reply.  "  We  don't  take  you  for  a  horse-thief!" 

"  Then  why  do  you Eh  ?  You  don't  take 

me  for  a  horse-thief!  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"Well, I— you  know "  faltered  Hank,  "those 

northern  relations  of  yours  sling  on  a  good  many 
frills,  and  folks  who  wear  store  clothes  and  boiled 
shirts  are  not  wanted  in  this  country.  We're  afraid 
of  them." 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  13 

"Whew!"  whistled  George. 

He  looked  steadily  at  his  friend  for  a  moment, 
then  down  at  the  ground,  and  finally  he  reined  his 
horse  out  of  Hank's  path  and  went  slowly  on  his 
way  toward  Palos.  It  was  all  plain  enough  to  him 
now.  Uncle  John  and  Ned  wore  store  clothes  and 
boiled  shirts,  and  the  settlers  took  them  for  horse- 
thieves  and  treated  them  accordingly.  That  was  the 
English  of  it,  and  George  wondered  why  he,  know 
ing  the  customs  of  the  country  and  the  habits  and 
opinions  of  the  people  as  well  as  he  did,  had  not 
been  smart  enough  to  see  it  without  asking  any 
questions.  This  was  what  he  thought  at  first,  and 
then  he  suddenly  grew  so  angry  that  he  could 
scarcely  control  himself.  He  drew  up  his  horse 
with  a  jerk,  faced  about  in  his  saddle  and  called 
after  his  friend. 

"Look  here,  Hank,"  he  shouted,  shaking  his  fist 
in  the  air,  "you  may  tell  those  people  who  shun  my 
relatives  because  they  would  rather  wear  good  clothes 
than  shabby  ones,  and  who  go  back  on  me  because  I 
live  with  them — you  can  tell  those  people  that  we 
are  just  as  good  as  they  dare  be  any  day  and  just  as 
honest !" 

"  All  right,"  was  Hank's  response. 


14:  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  And  bear  another  thing  in  mind,"  cried  George, 
growing  angrier  every  minute,  "  and  that  is,  I  am 
boy  enough  to  make  you,  or  any  fellow  like  you, 
who  says  anything  against  them  take  back  his  words 
I  am  going  to  stand  by  them,  no  matter  what  hap 
pens." 

"  I  haven't  said  anything  against  them,"  answered 
Hank.  "  I  think  too  much  of  you  to  do  that.  I'll 
talk  to  you  the  next  time  I  see  you.  Perhaps  you 
will  be  better  natured  then." 

This  reply  completely  disarmed  George,  who 
promptly  turned  about,  intending  to  ride  up  to  his 
friend  and  take  back  every  harsh  word  he  had 
uttered ;  but  Hank  touched  his  horse  with  his  spurs 
as  soon  as  he  ceased  speaking,  and  was  now  almost 
out  of  ear-shot.  So  George  was  compelled  to  face 
about  again  and  go  on  his  way  toward  Palos,  without 
making  things  straight  with  his  friend. 

"  Hank  is  a  good  fellow,  that's  a  fact,"  said  he  to 
himself,  "and  I  might  have  known  that  he  wouldn't 
say  a  word  that  he  thought  would  oifend  me.  But 
here's  one  thing  I  can't  understand,"  continued 
George,  growing  angry  again.  "  If  the  settlers  don't 
want  anything  to  do  with  Uncle  John  and  Ned,  is 
that  any  reason  why  they  should  give  me  the  cold 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  15 

shoulder  ?  If  they  don't  want  to  come  to  our 
rancho,  they  might  at  least  treat  me  civilly  when 
they  meet  me  away  from  home.  This  is  the  stran 
gest  world  I  ever  saw  or  heard  of.  If  I  should  walk 
into  Foxboro',  where  Uncle  John  came  from,  with 
these  clothes  on,  folks  would  look  at  me  suspiciously, 
lock  their  back  doors  and  keep  an  eye  on  their 
smoke-houses.  He  and  Ned  came  into  the  country, 
dressed  as  I  suppose  all  city  folks  dress,  and  every 
body  is  down  on  them,  and  ready  to  take  them  for 
anything  in  the  world  but  an  honest  man  and  boy." 
Yes,  it  is  a  fact  that  Uncle  John  and  Ned  had 
been  received  by  the  settlers  in  about  as  cordial  and 
friendly  a  manner  as  a  couple  of  ragged,  ill-looking 
tramps  would  be  received  if  they  suddenly  made 
their  appearance  in  the  streets  of  some  retired  vil 
lage  in  New  England.  It  was  just  the  sort  of 
reception  that  these  rough  frontiersmen  always 
extend  to  people  of  that  stamp.  This  may  seem 
like  a  strange  statement,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true, 
If  you  want  to  be  certain  of  it  read  the  following 
paragraphs,  which  have  been  condensed  from  a 
recently  published  book*  written  by  two  men  who 

*  Two  Thousand  Miles  in  Texas  on  Horseback  ;  by  McPanield 
and  Taylor. 


16  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

have  spent  long  years   in   the  wilds  of  which   we 
write. 

"  The  men  who  follow  this  business  of  stock  rais 
ing  are  peculiar.  They  are  a  stalwart,  sinewy  race, 
bronzed  and  bearded,  and  always  go  armed  to  the 
teeth ;  but  they  wear  their  weapons  just  as  other 
people  wear  coats  and  vests,  mainly  because  it  is 
fashionable.  A  more  peaceably-disposed  people  I 
never  saw ;  and  they  seem  to  vie  with  one  another 
in  hospitality  to  the  stranger.  They  are  nearly  all 
young  or  middle-aged  men.  To  subdue  the  wilder 
ness  and  stand  guard  over  the  watch-towers  of  civil 
ization,  do  not  belong  to  the  old ;  and  yet  I  see  a 
few  strong  old  men  here  whose  heads  are  as  white 
as  if  a  hundred  winters  had  sprinkled  their  snows 
upon  them — old  men  youthful  in  everything  except 
years.  They  are  a  sharp,  quick  and  intelligent 
people,  and  there  are  some  who  are  evidently  of 
superior  education.  These  are  doubtless  stray  young 
gentlemen  whom  a  restless  spirit  of  adventure  de 
coyed  from  their  homes  in  the  old  states,  finally 
stranding  them  on  the  shores  of  this  far-away 
country.  They  are  appreciated  here,  for  these 
rough  frontiersmen  dearly  love  to  have  educated  and 
sensible  young  men  settle  among  them.  But  let 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  IT 

no  pin-feather  youth  think  that  he  can  come  here 
and  be  made  a  lion  of  at  once.  A  pretentious, 
foppish  young  fellow  would  be  heavily  discounted 
by  them,  in  spite  of  all  his  book  learning  and  ele 
gance  of  manner.  He  must  have  a  good  store  of 
common  sense  and  understand  how  to  adapt  himself 
to  the  situation.  He  must  throw  on  no  airs,  for 
these  frontiersmen  are  nearly  all  men  of  as  much 
sharpness  of  wit  as  boldness  of  heart.  They  have 
seen  a  good  deal  of  the  world  and  quickly  detect 
the  spurious.  The  new-comer  must  show  a  heart 
for  honest,  manly  work,  be  companionable,  bear 
himself  toward  all  respectfully  and  courteously,  and 
he  will  soon  find  that  he  has  a  noble  army  of  friends 
around  him  who  will  always  be  glad  to  advance  him, 
and  who  will  feel  proud  of  him  as  one  of  them 
selves. 

u  I  have  often  thought  of  my  first  appearance 
among  those  frontier  people  with  considerable  amuse 
ment.  When  a  boy,  almost  beardless  and  just  from 
the  schools,  I  came  on  horseback  to  San  Saba,  wear 
ing  a  nice  silk  hat,  carrying  a  silver-headed  cane, 
and  dressed  as  young  gentlemen  generally  dress  in 
the  best  communities  of  the  older  states.  The  old 
frontiersmen  looked  \ipon  me  with  almost  intolerable 
2 


18  GEOHGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

scorn,  and  there  was  some  serious  talk  of  hanging 
me  as  a  suspected  horse-thief,  for  no  other  reason  in 
the  world  than  because  I  was  well-dressed,  well- 
educated  and  decidedly  well-behaved,  though  rather 
a  reserved  young  fellow. 

"  One  old  chap,  rough  and  bearded,  and  to  my 
eye  quite  a  monster  in  appearance,  actually  talked 
of  this  within  my  hearing.  The  look  of  scorn  he 
cast  upon  me  was  sublime.  I  was  quick  to  perceive 
the  drift  of  things ;  and  as  the  Indians  were  then 
stealing  and  scalping  at  a  great  rato,  I  threw  aside 
my  nice  clothes,  and  silver-headed  cane,  put  on  a 
rough  suit  and  went  Indian  hunting  with  the  fron 
tiersmen,  sleeping  with  them  in  their  houses,  in  the 
woods  and  on  the  prairie.  They  soon  grew  fond  of 
me,  and  I  have  never  been  in  a  country  where  I  had 
so  many  warm  friends;  but  they  never  ceased  to 
joke  me  about  my  three-story  hat  and  silver-headed 
cane.  Had  I  not  thrown  aside  these  articles  it  is 
not  at  all  impossible  that  I  might  have  been  hanged/' 

This  was  the  kind  of  people  among  whom  Uncle 
John  and  Ned  lived  now. 


LIFE   ON   T1IE   PLAINS.  19 


CHAPTER  11. 

A   NEIGHBORHOOD    ROW. 

TT7"HAT  was  true  of  the  people  who  lived  in  San 
Saba,  during  the  days  when  the  incident  we 
have  just  recorded  happened,  was  equally  true  of 
the  people  who  lived  in  Palos  and  the  surrounding 
country,  at  the  time  of  which  we  write.  They  were 
nearly  all  rich — there  was  hardly  a  man  among 
them  who  could  tell  how  many  horses  and  cattle 
bore  his  brand, — but  every  man  and  boy  of  them 
kept  busy  at  something,  and  strangers  who  came  to 
that  country,  and  sported  their  fine  clothes  and  did 
nothing,  were  always  objects  of  suspicion.  All  the 
settlers  knew  that  Uncle  John  and  Ned  were  :he 
brother  and  nephew  of  one  of  the  most  popular  men 
•who  had  ever  lived  in  the  county,  but  that  did  not 
alter  the  facts  of  the  case.  If  the  newcomers 
expected  to  be  kindly  received  and  hospitably 
treated,  they  must  come  down  from  the  high  posi 
tion  they  had  assumed  and  act  like  other  folks. 


20  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

George  mourned  in  secret  over  this  disagreeable 
state  of  affairs,  but  he  knew  that  it  could  not  be 
remedied  in  any  way,  unless  his  relatives  could  be 
prevailed  upon  to  conform  to  the  customs  of  the 
people  among  whom  they  lived.  When  he  returned 
from  Palos,  after  his  interview  with  Hank  Short,  he 
waited  and  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  give  them 
a  little  advice,  and  one  morning,  at  the  breakfast- 
table,  the  chance  was  presented. 

"  I  have  always  heard  that  Texans  were  a 
friendly  and  hospitable  set  of  people,"  said  Uncle 
John,  as  he  pushed  his  chair  away  from  the  table ; 
"but  I  have  learned  that  they  are  just  the  reverse. 
I  have  been  among  them  a  good  many  months,  and 
there  hasn't  been  a  person  here  to  see  me — not 
one." 

"  They're  a  set  of  boors,"  observed  Ned.  "You 
and  I  want  nothing  to  do  with  them,  father.  We 
must  live  entirely  within  ourselves,  while  we  stay 
here,  and  we're  able  to  do  it." 

"But  they  won't  let  you,"  said  George. 

"They!     Who?"  demanded  Ned. 

"  The  settlers  about  here." 

"  How  are  they  going  to  help  themselves,  I'd 
like  to  know?  Isn't  this  a  free  country?" 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  21 

"Yes,  it's  a  free  country,"  answered  George, 
with  a  smile,  "almost  too  free,  you  would  think, 
if  you  had  seen  what  I  have.  If  you  are  going 
to  live  among  these  people,  you  must  be  one  of 
them." 

Ned  ran  his  eye  over  his  cousin's  sturdy  figure- 
taking  in  at  a  glance  his  copper- colored  face,  large, 
rough  hands  and  coarse  clothing,  and  then  he 
looked  down  at  himself. 

"  How  must  I  do  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"You  must  pull  off  that  finery,  the  first  thing 
you  do,"  was  George's  blunt  reply.  "  Throw  it 
away.  It  is  of  no  use  to  you  in  this  country.' 

"I  found  that  out  long  ago,"  sneered  Ned. 
"  These  people  look  upon  a  red  shirt  as  a  badge 
of  respectability." 

"And  so  it  is,  in  one  sense  of  the  word," 
returned  George.  "When  you  are  dressed  for 
work,  you  are  ready  for  it ;  and  when  people  see 
you  at  work,  they  know  that  you  have  an  honest 
•way  of  making  a  living.  People  who  do  nothing 
are  of  no  more  use  here  in  Texas,  than  they  are  in 
Ohio." 

"  That's  just  what  I  have  been  trying  to  drum 
into  his  head  ever  since  we  have  been  here,"  said 


22  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

Unc/e  John,  who  had  not  been  known  to  do  a 
stroke  of  work  of  any  kind  during  the  long  months 
he  had  lived  in  the  rancho.  "Go  on  and  tell 
him  what  to  do,  George." 

"It  must  be  something  that  will  bring  me 
money,"  chimed  in  Ned.  "I  shan't  work  for 
nothing." 

"  There  are  plenty  of  things  that  will  bring  you 
money,"  replied  George.  "You  can  rent  a  piece 
of  ground,  fence  it  in  and  go  to  farming ;  or  you 
can  be  a  cattle  or  pig-raiser." 

"Pig-raiser!"  exclaimed  Ned,  in  great  disgust. 

"  There's  money  in  it,  I  tell  you.  These  post- 
oak  belts  that  run  across  the  state,  afford  the 
finest  pasturage  in  the  world — hundreds  of  bushels 
of  acorns  to  the  acre, — and  all  you  would  have  to 
do  would  be  to  build  you  a  little  hut  in  some  place 
that  suited  you,  and  call  up  your  pigs  twice  a  day 
and  feed  them  a  little  corn,  to  keep  them  from 
straying  away  and  going  wild.  If  you  want  to 
make  money  without  work,"  added  George,  who 
knew  very  well  that  that  was  just  what  his  cousin 
did  want,  "you  can't  select  a  better  business." 

"I'm  not  going  to  live  among  pigs!"  declared 
Ned,  emphatically.  "That's  settled.  If  I  had  a 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  23 

herd  of  cattle  like  yours,  I  might  take  some  inte 
rest  in  it." 

"  You  can  get  it,  if  you  are  willing  to  work  fcr 
it,  as  I  did." 

"  That  would  take  too  long.  If  I  go  into  any 
business,  it  must  be  something  that  will  yield  mo 
immediate  returns.  I  think  the  easiest  thing  I 
could  do  would  be  to  put  in  fifty  or  a  hundred 
acres  of  wheat.  That  is  a  crop  that  will  require 
the  least  work." 

"Well,  there  is  land  enough  at  your  disposal," 
said  George.  "  There  are  ten  thousand  acres  in 
this  ranche.  But  where  are  you  going  to  get  the 
money  to  fence  your  field  ?'? 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  fence  it  at  all.  Our 
own  cattle  (Ned  and  his  father  always  spoke  of  the 
ranche,  and  everything  belonging  to  it,  as  though 
it  were  their  own  property)  will  not  trouble  it,  for  I 
shall  tell  the  herders  to  keep  them  at  a  distance." 

"  But  they  couldn't  always  do  it.  Besides,  sup 
pose  some  of  the  neighbors'  cattle  should  stray  away 
from  the  herdsmen  and  trespass  on  your  field :  what 
would  you  do  ?" 

"  I  should  tell  those  neighbors,  whoever  they 
were,  to  keep  their  cattle  at  home;  and  if  they 


24  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

didn't  do  it,  I  should  watch  my  field  and  shoot  the 
first  steer  that  came  into  it.  That  thing  has  been 
done  in  this  country." 

"Yes,  it  has,"  returned  George,  "and  what  was 
the  consequence?" 

"0,  it  created  a  neighborhood  row,  I  believe," 
answered  Ned,  indifferently. 

"It  certainly  did;  and  you  would  never  want  to 
live  through  another  if  you  had  lived  through  that 
one.  You  will  need  a  fence  around  your  field,  and  it 
must  be  high  and  strong,  too;  and  if  anybody's  cattle 
break  in,  as  they  will,  most  likely,  no  matter  how 
good  your  fence  may  be,  you  mustn't  take  satisfac 
tion  by  shooting  them." 

"  You'll  see  whether  I  will  or  not.  If  I  can  raise 
a  fuss  as  easily  as  that,  I'll  do  it.  The  people  here 
seem  to  think  that  I'm  a  nobody,  but  they  will  find 
that  they  are  very  badly  mistaken.  I  can  draw  a 
trigger  as  well  as  the  next  man." 

"I  hope  you  won't  draw  it  on  anybody's  cattle/' 
said  George,  earnestly.  "  If  you  do,  you'll  set  the 
whole  settlement  together  by  the  ears.  I've  seen 
one  'neighborhood  row,'  as  you  call  it,  and  I  never 
want  to  see  another.  I  can  remember,  for  it  was 
not  so  very  long  ago,  when  my  father  did  not  dare 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  25 

go  to  the  door  after  dark  for  fear  that  there  might 
be  somebody  lying  in  wait  to  shoot  him.  I  can 
remember  when  I  used  to  lie  awake  night  after 
night  with  my  head  under  the  bed  clothes,  starting 
at  every  sound,  and  expecting  every  minute  to  hear 
the  crackling  of  flames,  and  to  rush  out  to  find  the 
house  surrounded  by  armed  men,  who  would  shoot 
us  down  as  fast  as  we  came  out.  That  very  thing 
was  threatened  more  than  once.  You  don't  know 
anything  about  it,  for  you  were  not  here  at  the 
time;  but  I  do,  and  I— Whew  !"  exclaimed  George, 
pushing  his  chair  away  from  the  table  and  drawing 
his  hand  across  his  forehead,  at  the  same  time  shud 
dering  all  over  as  he  recalled  to  mind  some  of  the 
thrilling  scenes  through  which  he  had  passed  during 
those  days  and  nights  of  horror.  "  If  you  are  going 
to  bring  those  times  back  to  us  you  had  better  make 
arrangements  to  leave  here  at  once,  for  the  country 
will  be  too  hot  to  hold  you." 

There  had  indeed  been  troublous  days  in  Miller 
county  a  few  months  previous  to  the  beginning  of 
our  story.  In  the  first  place  the  county  was  sett'ed 
by  men  who  devoted  themselves  exclusively  to  rais 
ing  cattle  and  horses  for  market.  Some  of  them 
purchased  land,  but  the  majority  did  not  own  an' 


26  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

acre.  They  lived  in  the  saddle,  slept  in  the  open 
air  the  year  round  and  subsisted  principally  upon 
the  game  that  fell  to  their  rifles.  They  followed  their 
herds  wherever  they  went,  and  the  raising  of  them 
never  cost  their  owners  a  dollar,  for  the  prairie 
afforded  abundant  pasturage  and  was  free  to  any  one 
who  might  choose  to  occupy  it.  In  process  of  time 
other  settlers  came  in,  some  turning  their  attention 
to  stock  raising,  while  the  others  purchased  farms 
from  the  government,  surrounded  them  with  fences 
to  keep  their  neighbors'  cattle  from  trespassing  on 
them,  and  put  in  crops. 

Unfortunately  ill-feeling  existed  between  these 
two  classes  of  men,  the  farmers  and  the  ranchemen, 
almost  from  the  very  first.  The  latter  did  not  want 
the  farmers  there  for  the  reason  that  every  farm  that 
was  fenced  in  took  away  just  so  many  acres  of  their 
pasture ;  and  the  farmers  declared  that  the  ranche 
men  were  a  nuisance  and  ought  to  be  driven  out  of 
the  country,  because  their  cattle  broke  through  the 
fences  and  destroyed  the  crops  that  had  cost  so  much 
labor. 

These  feelings  of  hostility  grew  stronger  as  the 
farmers  increased  in  numbers,  and  the  ranchemen 
saw  their  limits  growing  smaller  every  year,  and  the 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  27 

rich  pastures  they  had  so  long  occupied  being  turned 
up  by  the  plough.  The  fences  that  were  hastily 
erected  by  the  farmers  were  not  strong  enough  to 
keep  out  the  half-wild  cattle  which  roamed  the 
unoccupied  territory,  and  when  one  of  these  im 
mense  herds  gained  access  to  a  cultivated  field 
they  made  sad  work  with  it.  Whenever  this  hap 
pened  the  farmers  sued  the  owners  of  the  cattle  in 
the  courts  for  damages ;  and  as  they  were  by  this 
time  largely  in  the  majority  and  could  control  the 
juries,  they  always  gained  their  cause. 

This  made  the  stockmen  very  angry,  and  they 
had  recourse  to  a  law  of  their  own — that  of  force. 
They  drove  off  cattle  belonging  to  the  farmers,  sold 
them  and  divided  the  proceeds  among  themselves. 
The  farmers  took  revenge  by  shooting  the  cattle 
that  broke  into  their  fields  ;  the  ranchemen  retaliated 
by  shooting  the  farmers ;  and  this  led  to  a  reign  of 
terror  of  which  our  readers  may  have  some  very 
faint  conception  if  they  chanced  to  live  in  Chicago, 
Pittsburgh,  Buffalo  or  Baltimore  during  the  riots 
that  took  place  in  July  1877. 

Things  very  soon  came  to  such  a  pass  that  no  man 
went  abroad,  even  in  the  day  time,  unless  he  was 
loaded  with  weapons,  and  even  then  he  expected  to 


28  GEORGE    IN    CAMP;    CR, 

be  bushwhacked  by  some  angry  neighbor.  Every 
house  was  converted  into  a  little  fortress,  and  people 
were  very  careful  how  they  ventured  out  of  doors 
after  dark,  or  showed  themselves  in  front  of  a  win 
dow  opening  into  a  lighted  room. 

This  state  of  affairs  might  have  continued  until 
the  present  day,  or  until  the  thinly-settled  county 
was  entirely  depopulated,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
interference  of  some  lawless  men  who  lived  just  over 
the  border.  One  dark  night,  a  party  of  Mexicans, 
headed  by  renegade  Americans,  made  a  raid  across 
the  Rio  Grande  and  drove  off  a  thousand  head  of 
cattle  and  horses.  The  robbers  were  so  delighted 
with  their  success  that  they  came  again  and  again, 
and  the  settlers,  being  divided  against  themselves, 
could  do  nothing  to  protect  their  property.  This 
brought  them  to  their  senses,  as  nothing  else  could 
have  done.  Advances  and  concessions  were  made 
on  both  sides ;  old  differences  were  forgotten  ;  the 
farmers  repaired  their  dilapidated  fences ;  the  stock- 
raisers  employed  extra  herdsmen  to  keep  their  cattle 
within  bounds ;  and  a  company  of  Rangers  was 
promptly  organized,  composed  of  the  very  men  who 
had  been  bushwhacking  one  another  for  months. 

The  Mexican  raiders  did  not  come  again  immedi 
ately,  for  their  spies  told  them  of  the  preparations 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  29 

that  had  been  made  to  receive  them  ;  and  when  at 
last  all  fears  of  another  visit  from  them  had  passed 
away,  the  company  which  the  settlers  had  called 
together  for  mutual  protection  ceased  to  exist  as  an 
organization.  But  it  had  served  more  than  one 
good  purpose.  It  had  not  only  compelled  the 
raiders  to  remain  on  their  own  side  of  the  river,  but 
it  had  brought  the  stockmen  and  farmers  into  inti 
mate  relations  with  one  another,  and  led  to  the 
determination  on  the  part  of  all  of  them  that  the 
cause  of  their  troubles  should  be  carefully  avoided 
in  the  future. 

Since  that  time  Miller  county  had  been  one  of 
the  quietest  and  most  orderly  portions  of  the  state. 
Peace  and  plenty  reigned,  and  the  farmers  and 
stockmen  were  the  firmest  of  friends.  But  now  it 
appeared  that  a  vindictive  boy,  who  was  too  lazy  to 
win  a  name  for  himself  in  any  honorable  way,  was 
willing  and  even  eager  to  put  an  end  to  this  happy 
state  of  affairs  just  because  he  wanted  the  settlers  to 
notice  him — to  see  that  he  was  not  a  nobody.  The 
shooting  of  a  single  steer  that  had  broken  into  a 
farmer's  field  would  have  been  like  throwing  a  bla 
zing  fire-brand  upon  a  dry  prairie  while  the  wind 
was  blowing  a  gale.  George  was  frightened  at  the 
bare  thought  of  such  a  thing. 


30  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OB, 


CHAPTER  III. 

NED'S  EXPERIENCE  IN  CAMP. 

TT  was  plain  enough  to  George  that  Ned  wanted 
to  take  satisfaction  out  of  the  settlers  for  their 
refusal  to  notice  him  and  make  much  of  him,  as  he 
seemed  to  think  they  ought  to  have  done.  lie  said 
all  he  could  to  induce  him  to  give  up  the  idea,  but 
Ned  was  stubborn,  and  George  finally  abandoned  the 
attempt  in  despair,  hoping  that  when  the  trouble 
came,  as  it  certainly  would  come  if  Ned  held  to  his 
resolution,  he  could  in  some  way  protect  him  from 
the  consequences  of  his  folly. 

"  I  can  at  least  guide  him  out  of  the  country,  for 
it  will  not  be  safe  for  him  to  stay  here,"  thought 
George.  "  Uncle  John  will  go,  too,  if  he  is  wise; 
but  I  shall  have  to  remain  and  shoulder  the  whcle 
of  it." 

The  conversation  recorded  in  the  preceding  chap 
ter  was  but  one  of  the  many  Ned  had  with  his 
father  and  cousin  on  the  subject  of  farming,  and  the 


LIFE   ON    THE    PLAINS.  31 

result  was  that  the  following  winter  saw  him  the 
owner,  for  the  time  being,  .of  fifty  acres  of  rich  bot 
tom  land,  which  had  been  fenced  and  planted  to 
wheat.  By  the  terms  of  the  contract  made  with 
his  father  in  George's  hearing,  Ned  was  to  pay  the 
same  rent  for  the  ground  that  he  would  have  had  to 
pay  had  he  leased  it  from  an  entire  stranger.  "  You 
know  the  ranche  doesn't  belong  to  me,"  said  Uncle 
John.  "  I  am  managing  it  for  George's  benefit,  and 
must  make  all  the  money  I  can  for  him.  You  ought 
to  clear  a  nice  little  sum  by  your  venture,  and  can 
afford  to  pay  the  usual  rent." 

"  0,  I'll  pay  it  after  my  crop  is  sold ;  that  is,  if  I 
feel  like  it,"  said  Ned  to  himself.  "George  has 
money  enough  already.  A  boy  who  owns  six  thou 
sand  dollars'  worth  of  stock  ought  to  be  willing  to 
allow  his  only  cousin  the  free  use  of  fifty  acres  of 
land.  I  shall  have  need  of  every  red  cent  I  make." 

Ned,  who  was  extravagantly  fond  of  company  and 
pleasure,  could  hardly  endure  the  lonely  life  he  was 
compelled  to  lead.  He  hoped  that  as  soon  as  it 
became  known  throughout  the  settlement  that  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  work,  he  would  be  in 
a  fair  way  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  people ;  and  per 
haps  he  would,  if  he  had  gone  about  it  in  the  right 


32  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

way.  He  laid  aside  the  objectionable  broadcloth 
suit  and  white  shirt,  it  is  true,  and  put  on  what 
he  called  "working  clothes;"  but  they  were  more 
gorgeous  than  any  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  th^ 
part  of  Texas  before  outside  of  an  illustrated  story 
paper.  His  boots  were  expensive  Wellingtons,  and 
were  made  of  patent  leather,  too.  He  wore  giay 
corduroy  trowsers,  a  fawnskin  vest,  a  finely-dressed 
buckskin  coat,  with  silver  buttons,  and  a  Mexican 
sombrero  ornamented  with  gold  cord  and  tassels. 
It  was  a  "nobby"  suit,  to  quote  from  its  delighted 
owner,  and  must  have  astonished  the  natives,  if  one 
might  judge  by  the  way  they  stared  at  him  when 
they  met  him  on  the  trail ;  but  it  did  not  bring  him 
any  more  company  than  he  had  always  had. 

Ned  led  a  lonely  and  discontented  life  all  .Lat 
winter.  There  were  no  boys  with  whom  ^e  could 
associate  except  his  cousin,  and  Ned  had  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  he  would  much  rather  be  alone 
than  in  George's  company.  The  latter  did  not  suit 
him  at  all.  He  was  much  too  industrious.  He 
was  in  camp  with  his  herdsman  more  than  half 
the  time,  and  when  he  was  at  home  he  was  always 
busy.  Ned  had  expected  to  see  unbounded  pleasure 
in  living  on  the  prairie  and  sleeping  in  the  open  air, 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  83 

as  his  cousin  did  more  than  six  months  in  the  yeur, 
and  once  he  had  spent  two  weeks  with  him  in  camp ; 
but  that  was  his  first  and  last  experience  in  cattle- 
.ierding,  and  as  it  was  not  at  all  to  his  liking,  we 
must  stop  long  enough  to  say  something  about  t. 
This  is  a  story  of  camp  life,  you  know. 

-Ned  had  not  been  away  from  the  ranche  more 
than  three  days  before  he  found,  to  his  great  sur 
prise  and  disappointment,  that  life  in  the  open  air 
was  not  what  his  lively  imagination  had  pictured  it. 
Many  a  boy  has  been  deceived  on  this  point,  just  as 
others  have  been  deceived  in  looking  upon  the  life 
of  a  sailor  as  one  of  ease  and  romance.  Ned 
thought  that  those  who  lived  in  camp  had  nothing 
to  do  but  sit  on  the  grass,  under  the  spreading 
V.:,  iches  of  some  friendly  tree,  and  dream  away 
the  days  which  would  be  all  sunshine ;  and  that 
when  they  grew  hungry,  some  fat  black-tail  or  ante 
lope  would  walk  up  within  easy  range  of  their  rifles 
just  on  purpose  to  be  shot.  The  nights  would  be 
mild  and  pleasant,  the  fire  would  somehow  keep 
itself  burning  all  the  time,  whether  the  necessary 
fuel  was  supplied  or  not,  and  cook  his  meals  for  him 
without  any  care  or  exertion  on  his  part.  But  one 
short  week's  experience  banished  all  these  absurd 


34  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

ideas,  and  taught  him  what  a  cattle-herder's  camp- 
life  really  was.  It  was  one  of  almost  constant 
drudgery  and  toil.  George  had  three  hundred 
cattle  to  watch,  and  as  he  had  only  one  herdsman 
t )  assist  him,  he  was  kept  busy  from  morning  until 
night.  He  and  Zeke  (that  was  the  name  of  his 
herdsman,  of  whom  we  shall  have  a  good  deal  to  say 
by  and  by),  were  up  and  doing  long  before  the  sun 
arose,  and  while  one  cooked  the  breakfast  and  per 
formed  the  necessary  camp-duties,  the  other  drove 
the  cattle  out  to  pasture  and  watched  them  to  see 
that  they  didn't  stray  away. 

Ned,  being  inexperienced,  and  an  invited  guest 
beside,  was  not  expected  to  do  anything  except  to 
eat  his  share  of  the  rations,  and  enjoy  himself  as 
well  as  he  could.  Sometimes  he  went  out  with  the 
cattle-herder,  and  then  he  stayed  with  the  camp- 
keeper  ;  but  he  soon  grew  tired  of  both  of  them  and 
of  their  way  of  life,  too.  George  knew  but  little 
about  the  city  and  cared  less.  He  took  no  interest 
whatever  in  his  cousin's  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
numerous  "scrapes"  he  had  been  in,  and  neither  did 
Zcke,  who  bluntly  told  him  that  he  might  have  been 
in  better  business.  Ned,  on  the  other  hand,  cared 
pgthing  for  the  things  in  which  George  and  Zeke 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  35 

were  interested,  so  there  was  little  they  could  talk 
about. 

But  there  was  plenty  of  hunting,  and  in  this 
way  Ned  passed  a  portion  of  each  day.  He  had 
nc  luck,  however,  for  he  never  saw  anything  in  the 
shape  of  game  larger  than  Jack  rabbits,  and  he 
never  bagged  one  of  them.  The  only  thing  he 
brought  back  to  camp  with  him  from  these  hunting 
excursions  was  a  ravenous  appetite,  and  he  had  to 
satisfy  it  with  fried  bacon,  hard  corn-cakes  and 
coffee  without  any  milk.  The  juicy  venison  steaks 
and  other  luxuries  he  had  expected  to  fatten  on 
wrere  never  served  up  to  him.  It  rained,  too,  some 
times,  and  Ned  could  find  no  shelter  under  the 
dripping  trees.  There  was  no  fun  at  all  in  going  to 
bed  in  wet  clothes,  and  Ned  always  shuddered  and 
wished  himself  safe  at  the  rancho  when  his  cousin 
said  to  him,  as  he  did  almost  every  night — 

"  Don't  forget  your  lasso.  The  rattlers  are  toler 
able  plenty  about  here." 

Ned  knew  that,  for  he  had  seen  two  or  three  of 
them  killed  in  the  carnp.  George  had  told  him  that 
the  neighborhood  of  a  fire  was  a  bad  place  for  rattle 
snakes,  and  Ned  could  hardly  bring  himself  to 
believe  that  his  hair  lasso,  laid  down  in  a  coil  about 


36  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  place  where  he  made  his  bed,  was  a  sure  pro 
tection  against  these  dangerous  visitors. 

A  few  days  before  he  went  home,  Ned  had  an 
experience  such  as  he  had  never  had  before,  and 
which  he  fervently  hoped  would  never  be  repeated. 
On  this  particular  day  he  went  out  with  George, 
whose  turn  it  was  to  watch  the  cattle.  He  soon 
grew  tired  of  talking  to  him,  so  he  mounted  his 
horse  and  set  out  in  search  of  antelopes,  which,  so 
his  cousin  told  him,  were  often  seen  in  that  neigh 
borhood.  He  rode  slowly  in  a  circle  around  the 
place  where  the  cattle  were  feeding,  at  distances 
varying  from  a  half  to  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
them  (there  was  small  chance  of  finding  an  antelope 
so  close  to  the  herd,  but  Ned  dared  not  go  any 
farther  away  for  fear  of  the  Apaches,  concerning 
whom  he  had  heard  some  dreadful  stories  told  by 
Zeke  the  night  before),  and  he  had  been  gone  about 
an  hour  when  he  was  suddenly  startled  by  hearing 
the  faint  report  of  a  rifle.  Turning  his  eyes  quickly 
in  the  direction  from  which  the  report  sounded,  he 
saw  his  cousin  sitting  in  his  saddle,  and  waving  his 
hat  frantically  in  the  air.  When  he  found  that  the 
sound  of  his  rifle  had  attracted  Ned's  attention,  he 
beckoned  him  to  approach. 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  37 

"What's  up,  I  wonder?"  thought  Ned,  not  a 
little  alarmed.  "  George  must  have  shot  at  some 
thing,  for  I  saw  the  smoke  curling  above  his  head. 
Are  the  Mexicans  or  Apaches  about  to  make  a  raid 
on  us  ?" 

Ned,  who  had  drawn  rein  on  the  summit  of  a 
high  swell,  looked  all  around  but  could  see  no  signs 
of  any  horsemen.  He  did  see  something  to  increase 
his  alarm,  however.  He  saw  that  the  cattle,  which 
were  quietly  grazing  the  last  time  he  looked  toward 
them,  were  now  all  in  motion,  and  that  they  were 
hurrying  toward  the  belt  of  post- oaks  in  which  the 
camp  was  located.  That  was  enough  for  Ned.  He 
put  his  horse  into  a  gallop  and  hastened  to  join  his 
cousin,  who  now  and  then  beckoned  to  him  with 
both  hands  as  if  urging  him  to  ride  faster. 

"What's  the  matter?"  shouted  Ned,  as  soon  as 
he  arrived  within  speaking  distance  of  George. 
"Haiders?" 

"  0  no  !  We're  going  to  have  a  norther,  and  if 
there  should  happen  to  be  rain  with  it  we  don't  want 
it  to  catch  us  out  here  on  the  prairie." 

"Is  that  all?"  exclaimed  Ned,  somewhat  impa 
tiently.  "That's  a  pretty  excuse  for  frightening  a 


38  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

fellow  half  to  death,  isn't  it?     I  thought  something 
was  going  to  happen." 

"  Something  is  going  to  happen !"  replied 
George. 

"You  seem  to  have  grown  very  much  afraid  of 
the  rain  lately,"  continued  Ned.  "It  was  only  a 
day  or  two  ago  that  you  stood  out  in  a  hard  shower, 
and  never  seemed  to  care  for  it." 

"  Yes ;  but  if  we  have  rain  now,  it  will  be  a  dif 
ferent  sort,  as  you  will  find." 

"  I  don't  see  any  signs  of  it  yet,"  said  Ned,  look 
ing  up  at  the  sky.  "I  hope  it  will  cool  the  air  a 
little,"  he  added,  a  moment  later,  pulling  off  his  hat 
and  drawing  his  handkerchief  across  his  face,  which 
was  very  much  flushed,  "for  I  am  almost  roasted. 
I  declare,  I  must  have  ridden  fast.  Just  see  how 
my  horse  sweats !" 

"Mine  sweats  just  as  badly,"  replied  George, 
"and  he  has  been  staked  out  ever  since  you  have 
been  gone." 

Ned  looked  at  his  cousin's  horse,  then  glanced  at 
his  own,  and  was  very  much  surprised  at  what  he 
saw.  Both  animals  were  wet  with  perspiration,  and 
stood  with  their  heads  down  and  their  sides  heaving, 
as  if  they  had  been  ridden  long  and  rapidly.  There 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  39 

was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring,  as  Ned  found,  when 
he  came  to  look  about  him.  The  atmosphere  was 
close  and  oppressive,  and  filled  with  a  thick  haze, 
which  seemed  to  magnify  every  object  within  the 
range  of  his  vision,  and  overhead,  the  sun  rode  in  a 

cloudless  sky,  sending  down  his  beams  with  fearful 

• 
intensity. 

"Whew!"  panted  Ned.  He  dropped  his  reins, 
hung  his  rifle  upon  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  peeled 
off  his  coat,  vest  and  neck-tie,  and  threw  open  the 
collar  of  his  shirt.  "Whew!"  he  gasped.  "We 
shall  be  overcome  with  the  heat  before  we  can  reach 
the  timber.  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  hot !  I  don't 
see  how  you  can  stand  it,  with  those  thick  clothes 
on." 

"I  am  pretty  warm  now,  that's  a  fact;  but  I 
shall  be  cool  enough  by  and  by,  and  so  will  you!" 

While  the  boys  were  talking  in  this  way,  they 
were  riding  toward  the  post-oaks,  which  were  now 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  distant.  The  sun's  rays 
seemed  to  grow  hotter  with  every  step  of  the  way, 
and  the  atmosphere  to  become  more  stifling,  until  at 
last  Ned  would  gladly  have  welcomed  a  hurricane 
or  an  earthquake,  if  it  would  have  brought  him  any 
relief  from  his  sufferings.  Finally,  a  small,  dark- 


40  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

colored  cloud  appeared  in  the  horizon,  rising  into 
view  with  wonderful  rapidity,  spreading  itself  over 
the  sky  and  shooting  out  great,  black  arms  before 
it,  until  it  looked  like  a  gigantic  spider.  Then  the 
first  breath  of  the  on-coming  norther  began  to  ruffle 
the  grass,  whereupon  George  faced  about  in  his 
saddle,  and  began  unfastening  a  bundle,  in  which 
he  carried  his  rubber  poncho  and  heavy  overcoat, 
while  Ned  pulled  off  his  hat  again  and  turned  his 
shirt-collar  farther  back. 

"Aha!"  exclaimed  the  latter,  with  a  great  sigh 
of  relief.  "Isn't  that  a  delightful  breeze?  What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"  I  am  going  to  bundle  up,"  was  George's  reply, 
"and  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  you  will  do  the 
same.  You  see " 

"  0,  let  it  rain  !"  exclaimed  Ned,  without  wait 
ing  to  hear  what  else  his  cousin  had  to  say.  "  It 
will  be  most  refreshing,  after  such  a  roasting  as  we 
have  had  !" 

George  said  no  more,  for  he  had  been  snubbed 
every  time  he  tried  to  give  his  city  relative  any 
advice,  and  he  had  long  ago  resolved  that  he  would 
not  willingly  give  him  a  chance  to  snub  him  again. 
We  ought  also  to  say  that  there  was  another  rea- 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  41 

son  why  George  kept  silent.  A  Texan  takes 
unbounded  delight  in  seeing  a  greenhorn  caught 
out  in  a  norther.  It  is  so  very  different  from  any 
storm  he  ever  saw  before,  and  his  astonishment  is 
so  overwhelming !  George  opened  his  bundle,  put 
on  his  overcoat,  threw  his  poncho  over  that  and 
drew  on  a  pair  of  heavy  gloves.  He  looked  as  if  he 
were  preparing  to  face  a  snow-storm. 

All  this  while  the  norther  had  been  steadily,  but 
almost  imperceptibly,  increasing  in  force,  and  now, 
without  any  further  warning,  it  burst  forth  in  all 
its  fury,  and  the  roar  of  the  wind  sound<*l  like  the 
rumble  of  an  approaching  express  train. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Ned,  suddenly;  "how  it 
blows  and  how  fearfully  cold  it  is !" 

As  he  said  this  he  drew  his  collar  together  and 
hastily  put  on  his  vest  and  coat ;  but  vrhen  he  tried 
to  button  the  coat  his  fingers  were  so  benumbed  that 
he  was  almost  helpless. 

"Why,  I'm  freezing,"  gasped  Ned,  as  his  cousin 
rode  up  beside  him  and  offered  his  assistance. 

"0,  no!"  answered  George,  cheerfully.  "No 
one  was  ever  known  to  freeze  to  death  or  even  to 
take  cold  from  exposure  to  a  norther.  You'll  be  all 
right  as  soon  as  you  get  to  a  fire." 


42  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  country,"  said  Ned,  as  plainly 
as  his  chattering  teeth  would  permit.  "  Summer 
and  winter  all  in  one  day." 

"Yes,  in  less  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour,"  said 
George,  who  was  busy  untying  the  bundle  Ned 
carried  behind  his  saddle.  "  The  thermometer  has 
been  known  to  fall  sixty  degrees  almost  instantly." 

George  took  his  cousin's  overcoat  and  gloves  out 
of  the  bundle,  but  after  they  were  put  on  they  did 
not  seem  to  afford  the  wearer  the  least  protection 
from  the  bitter  blast  which  came  stronger  and 
stronger  avery  moment,  and  chilled  him  to  the  very 
marrow.  It  could  not  have  been  colder  if  it  had 
come  off  the  icebergs  within  the  Arctic  circle.  It 
seemed  to  blister  the  skin  wherever  it  touched,  and 
was  so  cutting  and  keen  that  the  boys  could  not 
keep  their  faces  toward  it.  Even  the  horses  began 
to  grow  restive  under  it,  and  it  was  all  their  riders 
could  do  to  control  them. 

"0,  I  shall  never  see  home  again!"  cried  Ned, 
who  was  terribly  alarmed.'  "  I  shall  freeze  to  death 
right  here.  I  cant  stand  it !" 

"You  can  and  you  must,"  shouted  George,  as  he 
seized  his  cousin's  horse  by  the  bridle.  "  Now,  pull 
your  hat  down  over  your  face,  throw  yourself  for- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  43 

ward  in  the  saddle,  and  hang  on  for  life,  I'll  take 
care  of  you." 

An  instant  afterward  Ned  was  being  carried  over 
the  prairie  with  all  the  speed  his  horse  could  bo 
induced  to  put  forth.  He  did  not  know  which  way 
he  was  going,  for  he  dared  not  look  up  to  see.  He 
sat  with  his  hat  over  his  face,  his  head  bowed  over 
to  his  horse's  neck,  and  his  hands  twisted  in  the 
animal's  mane,  while  George  sat  up,  braving  it  all 
and  leading  him  to  a  place  of  refuge. 

It  seemed  to  Ned  that  they  were  a  very  long  time 
in  reaching  the  timber,  and  that  he  should  certainly 
freeze  to  death  before  that  mile  and  a  half  of  prairie 
could  be  crossed ;  but  he  didn't,  and  neither  did  he 
afterward  feel  any  bad  effects  from  what  he  suffered 
during  his  cold  ride.  He  found  that  Zeke,  having 
been  warned  by  signs  he  could  easily  read  that  the 
norther  was  coming,  had  moved  the  camp  to  a  more 
sheltered  locality,  and  that  he  had  a  roaring  fire 
going  and  a  pot  of  hot  coffee  on  the  coals.  Ned 
drank  a  good  share  of  that  hot  coffee,  and  forgot  to 
grumble  over  it,  as  he  usually  did.  George  showed 
him  the  way  home  as  soon  as  the  storm  abated,  and 
there  Ned  resolved  to  stay,  having  fully  made  up  his 
mind  that  there  was  no  fun  to  be  seen  in  camp-life. 


14  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

Ned  was  more  lonely  and  discontented  than  ever 
after  that.  It  was  harder  work  to  pass  the  days  in 
doing  nothing  than  it  was  to  stand  behind  a  counter, 
selling  dry-goods ;  and  that  was  what  he  had  done 
before  he  came  to  Texas.  There  was  literally  no 
way  in  which  he  could  enjoy  himself.  Books, 
which  were  his  cousin's  delight,  Ned  did  not  care 
for.;  there  was  not  game  enough  in  the  country  to 
pay  for  the  trouble  of  hunting  for  it ;  the  boys  in 
the  settlement  were  a  lot  of  boors,  who  would  not 
notice  him,  because  he  was  so  far  above  them  ;  and 
all  Ned  could  do  was  to  spend  the  day  in  loitering 
about  the  house,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  If  I  only  had  some  of  the  jolly  fellows  here 
that  I  used  to  run  with  in  Foxboro' !"  said  Ned  to 
himself,  one  day,  after  he  had  spent  an  hour  or  two 
in  wandering  from  room  to  room,  in  the  vain  hope 
of  finding  something  to  interest  him.  u  Wouldn't 
we  turn  this  old  house  upside  down  !  They  all  pro 
mised  to  come  and  see  me,  but  I  know  they  won't 
do  it,  for  they'll  never  be  able  to  save  money 
enough  to  pay  their  fare.  If  I  ever  see  them,  I 
shall  have  to  send  them  the  money  to  bring  :hem 

here,  and  I Well,  now,  why  couldn't  I  do 

that  ?  It's  a  splendid  idea  !" 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  45 

Ned,  all  life  and  animation  now,  hurried  to  his 
room  to  act  upon  his  splendid  idea,  while  it  was  yet 
fresh  in  his  mind.  He  wrote  a  long  letter  to  one 
of  the  cronies,  Gus  Bobbins  by  name,  whom  he  had 
left  behind  in  Foxboro',  giving  a  glowing  description 
of  his  new  home,  recounting,  at  great  length,  a 
thrilling  hunting  adventure  he  had  heard  from  the 
lips  of  George's  herdsman,  and  of  which  he  made 
himself  the  hero,  instead  of  Zeke,  and  wound  up  by 
urging  Gus  and  his  brother  to  come  on  and  pay  him 
a  long  visit. 

"  You  must  not  refuse,"  Ned  wrote.  "  If  money 
is  what  you  need,  let  me  know,  and  I  will  send  you 
enough  to  foot  all  your  bills.  I  am  rich  now,  and 
can  afford  to  do  it.  Your  father  ought  to  be  will 
ing  to  give  you  a  short  vacation,  after  you  have 
worked  so  hard  in  the  store." 

The  letter  was  mailed  in  due  time,  and  Ned  im 
patiently  counted  the  days  that  must  elapse  before 
an  answer  could  arrive.  It  came  at  last,  and  Ned 
almost  danced  with  delight  when  he  read  it.  We 
copy  one  paragraph  in  it,  just  to  show  what  kind  of 
a  boy  he  was  whom  Ned  had  invited  to  his  house. 
We  shall  meet  him  very  shortly,  and  be  in  his  com 
pany  a  good  deal,  and  one  always  likes  to  know 


46  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

something  about  a  fellow  before  he  is  introduced  to 
him.     The  paragraph  referred  to  ran  as  follows : — 

"  You  must  be  having  jolly  times  down  there, 
and  since  I  read  your  letter  I  have  been  more  than 
ever  dissatisfied  with  the  store.  I  should  be  only 
too  glad  to  visit  you,  and  the  want  of  money  is  the 
only  thing  that  stands  in  my  way.  It  is  all  that 
has  kept  me  in  Foxboro'  so  long.  In  regard  to  the 
governor's  giving  me  a  holiday — I  shall  not  ask 
him  for  it,  for  he  would  be  sure  to  say  'No;'  and 
neither  can  I  write  you  anything  definite  about  my 
brother.  He  is  getting  to  be  a  regular  old  sober 
sides,  and  if  I  am  going  down  there,  I  would  rather 
lie  would  stay  at  home." 

The  rest  of  the  letter  was  taken  up  by  the  writer 
in  trying  to  make  Ned  understand  that  Gus  had 
fully  resolved  to  visit  Texas,  and  that  he  should  be 
very  much  disappointed,  if  anything  happened  to 
keep  him  at  home.  He  did  not  say  this  in  so  many 
words,  but  Ned  was  smart  enough  to  see  that  he 
meant  it  all  the  same. 

"He  shall  come,"  said  Ned,  as  he  folded  up  the 
letter  and  hurried  off  to  find  his  father.  "And  I 
hope  he  will  come  alone,  for  if  his  brother  is  getting 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  47 

to  be  a  milk-sop,  we  don't  want  him  down  here. 
Now,  the  next  thing  is  to  make  father  hand  over 
the  money." 

This  was  a  task  Ned  had  been  dreading  ever 
since  he  wrote  the  invitation  ;  but  he  went  about  it 
with  an  air  which  said  plainly  enough  that  he  knew 
he  should  succeed.  Uncle  John  objected  rather 
feebly,  at  first,  and  said  he  wasn't  sure  that  he  had 
any  right  to  spend  George's  money  in  that  way ; 
but  Ned  had  an  answer  to  every  objection,  and 
stuck  to  his  point  until  he  gained  it. 

"  You  mustn't  forget  that  I  may  own  this  pro 
perty  myself  some  day,"  said  he.  "If  George  does 
not  live  until  he  is  of  age,  everything  falls  to  me. 
If  that  should  ever  happen,  you  would  think  me 
awful  stingy  if  I  should  refuse  you  a  paltry  hundred 
dollars." 

Ned  certainly  talked  very  glibly  about  spending 
his  cousin's  money.  He  had  seen  the  time  when, 
if  he  chanced  to  have  a  hundred  cents  in  his  pocket, 
over  and  above  what  his  debts  amounted  to,  he  con 
sidered  himself  lucky.  It  was  not  a  paltry  sum  in 
his  eyes,  by  any  means. 

After  a  little  more  argument,  Ned  got  a  check  for 
the  money  he  wanted,  made  payable  to  the  order  of 


48  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

Gus  Robbins.  After  that  he  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
friend  urging  him  to  come  on  immediately,  put  the 
check  into  it  and  mailed  it  at  the  first  opportunity. 
Then  he  was  in  a  fever  of  excitement  and  suspense, 
and  wondered  if  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  live 
until  his  friend  arrived.  He  judged  that  Gus 
intended  to  leave  home  without  his  father's  knowl 
edge  or  consent,  but  Ned  did  not  care  for  that. 
Perhaps  he  would  do  the  same  thing  himself  under 
like  circumstances.  True,  he  often  asked  himself 
how  Gus  could  ever  muster  up  courage  enough  to  go 
home  again  after  doing  a  thing  of  that  kind,  but  he 
always  let  the  question  pass  with  the  reflection  that 
it  was  none  of  his  business.  It  was  a  matter  that 
Gus  must  settle  for  himself.  He  waited  impatiently 
for  his  friend's  coming,  little  dreaming  that  his 
appearance  at  the  rancho  would  be  the  signal  for  the 
beginning  of  a  series  of  scrapes  and  adventures  that 
would  put  the  whole  settlement  into  a  turmoil. 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A   DISCONTENTED    BOY. 

T  DO  think  that  if  there  is  a  mean  business  in  the 

world,  I  am  engaged  in  it." 

Gus  Robbins  suspended  for  a  moment  the  work 
of  folding  up  the  numerous  bolts  of  calico  he  had 
taken  down  from  the  shelves  for  the  inspection  of  a 
customer  who  had  just  departed  without  purchasing 
anything,  and  leaning  on  the  counter,  gazed  long 
ingly  through  the  glass  door  into  the  street.  It  was 
a  bright  winter  day.  The  sleighing  was  excellent, 
and  the  principal  thoroughfare  of  the  thriving  little 
city  of  Foxboro'  was  filled  with  sleighs  which  dashed 
by  in  both  directions,  carrying  loads  of  gay  pleasure- 
seekers,  all  of  whom,  Gus  noticed  with  no  little 
bitterness  of  heart,  seemed  to  be  enjoying  them 
selves  to  the  fullest  extent.  It  was  just  before  the 
holidays,  and  everybody  seemed  to  be  making 
unusual  preparations  for  them.  The  store  was  filled 
with  customers  almost  all  the  time,  and  Gus  had 


f>0  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

stood  in  his  place  behind  the  counter,  and  taken 
down  and  put  up  bales  of  goods  until  he  was  almost 
tired  out,  and  completely  disgusted  with  the  store 
and  everything  belonging  to  it.  Just  now  there 
was  a  little  lull  in  business,  and  Gus  had  a  few 
minutes  to  himself.  He  improved  them,  as  he  gen 
erally  improved  his  moments  of  leisure,  by  growling 
over  his  hard  lot  in  life,  and  drawing  a  contrast 
between  his  own  situation  and  that  of  some  of  the 
other  boys  of  his  acquaintance  in  the  city. 

"  There  are  no  such  things  as  peace  and  pleasure 
for  the  unfortunate  fellow  who  makes  his  bread  and 
butter  by  clerking  in  a  dry-goods  store,"  continued 
Gus,  spitefully  banging  a  bolt  of  calico  down  upon 
the  counter.  "  Everybody  is  happy  except  me. 
Other  boys  are  out  behind  their  fast  horses  having 
a  good  time,  and  here  I  am  shut  up  in  this  miserable 
old  store,  and  have  been  ever  since  seven  o'clock 
this  morning.  This  thing  is  getting  to  be  a  little 
too  monotonous,  the  first  thing  you  know7,  and  I  am 
not  going  to  put  up  with  it  much  longer.  If  I 
had  money,  I  wouldn't  stay  in  this  city  twenty- 
four  hours  longer.  Great  Caesar  !" 

Gus  brought  his  soliloquy  to  a  sudden  close,  and 
the  bolt  of  calico  he  had  picked  up  to  place  upon 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  51 

the  shelf  dropped  from  his  hands.  While  he  was 
talking  to  himself  he  kept  his  gaze  directed  toward 
the  street,  and  saw  a  red-faced  man  pass  one  of  the 
windows  and  turn  toward  the  door.  As  he  laid  his 
hand  upon  the  knob,  somebody  in  the  street  accosted 
him,  and  the  red-faced  man  turned  about  and 
entered  into  conversation  with  him.  Gus  looked  at 
him  for  a  moment,  and  then  ran  his  eyes  hastily 
around  the  store  as  if  he  were  looking  for  some  way 
of  escape. 

"  He'll  be  in  here  in  a  second  more,"  said  he,  to 
himself,  "and  how  shall  I  put  him  off?  I've  told 
him  so  many  lies  that  I  shall  have  to  get  a  fresh 
stock  on  hand  before  I  can  tell  him  any  more." 

The  expression  that  rested  on  the  boy's  face  dur 
ing  the  next  half-minute,  seemed  to  indicate  that  he 
was  revolving  a  very  perplexing  problem  in  his 
mind.  Suddenly  he  brightened  up  and  with  another 
glance  at  the  door,  passed  rapidly  around  the  coun 
ter,  and  crossed  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  store, 
where  another  clerk  was  at  work  folding  up  some 
goods. 

"I  say,  Sam,"  exclaimed  Gus,  in  a  hurried  whis 
per  ;  "will  you  add  another  to  the  long  list  of  favors 
you  have  done  me  ?" 


52  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  replied  Sam,  hesitatingly. 
"  Depends  upon  what  it  is.  If  you  want  to  borrow 
any  more " 

"I  don't,"  interrupted  Gus.  "  But  Meyers  is 
coming  after  what  I  owe  him,  and  there  he  is  now. 
Tell  him  that  I  have  gone  out  and  shan't  be  back 
for  a  week.  If  you  will  do  that  much  for  me  I  will 
repay  you " 

Gus  did  not  have  time  to  say  how  or  when  he 
would  repay  Sam,  for  at  this  moment  the  red-faced 
man  turned  half  around  and  placed  his  hand  on  the 
door-knob.  Gus  quickly  ducked  his  head  and  stole 
along  behind  the  counter  toward  the  back  part  of 
the  store,  until  he  came  to  a  door  opening  into  the 
warehouse. 

He  straightened  up  when  he  reached  this  place 
of  refuge,  and  just  as  he  did  so  the  opening 
and  closing  of  the  front  door  told  him  that  Mr. 
Meyers,  the  Jew  who  kept  the  little  cigar  and 
tobacco  stand  around  the  corner,  had  entered  on  one 
of  his  regular  weekly  dunning  visits. 

"  Much  good  may  it  do  him,"  thought  Gus,  keep 
ing  the  door  open  about  half  an  inch  so  that  he 
could  see  all  that  passed  in  the  store.  "He  is  a 
regular  leech,  and  if  I  could  only  settle  up  with 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  53 

him  I'd  pay  him  for  his  persistency  by  buying  my 
cigars  and  fine  cut  somewhere  else." 

The  visitor  held  a  long  interview  with  Sam — so 
long  that  Gus  began  to  be  very  impatient,  and  at 
last  to  tremble  for  fear  that  his  father,  who  was  busy 
with  the  books  in  the  office,  might  come  out  and 
find  him  there.  Gus  could  not  hear  what  they  said, 
but  he  could  see,  by  Mr.  Meyers's  emphatic  gestures, 
that  he  was  very  much  in  earnest  about  something. 
As  soon  as  the  man  left  the  store,  Gus  drew  a  long 
breath  of  relief  and  came  out  of  his  hiding-place. 
The  smile  on  his  face  showed  that  he  was  very  much 
pleased  with  the  success  of  his  little  stratagem. 

"  0,  there's  nothing  to  grin  over,  old  fellow,"  said 
Sam.  "  If  you  know  when  you  are  well  off  you 
will  rake  fifteen  dollars  together  pretty  lively,  I  tell 
you." 

"  Fifteen  dollars  !"  replied  Gus.  "1  don't  owe 
him  any  such  sum  as  that." 

"  He's  got  a  bill  made  out  for  it,  anyhow." 

"  What  did  you  say  to  him  ?  ' 

"  I  told  him  that  you  had  gone  out  somewhere  on 
business,  and  that  you  would  call  and  pay  him  to 
morrow  afternoon." 


54  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"To-morrow  afternoon!"  echoed  Gus.  "Great 
Caesar  !  How  am  I  going  to  raise  fifteen  dollars 
between  this  time  and  that?" 

"I  give  it  up,"  replied  Sam. 

"To-morrow  afternoon!"  gasped  Gus,  as  visions 
cf  a  stormy  interview  with  the  impatient  and  angry 
cigar  vendor  flitted  through  his  mind. 

"  Yes  ;  I  tried  to  put  him  off,  but  he-  wouldn't  be 
put  off,  so  I  had  to  tell  him  something  definite." 

"  You  had  no  business  to  tell  him  that,  at  any 
rate,"  snapped  Gus.  "You  know  I  couldn't  keep 
that  promise." 

"  Well,  the  next  time  you  want  any  lies  told  you 
can  just  stay  in  the  store  and  tell  them  yourself," 
retorted  Sam.  "  I  shall  not  do  it  any  more,  and 
you  needn't  waste  your  time  and  breath  in  asking 
me.  I  have  stood  between  you  and  your  creditors 
just  as  long  as  I  am  going  to ;  but  I'll  tell  you  one 
thing :  You  had  better  settle  with  that  Jew,  or  he 
•will  go  to  your  father  with  his  bill.  Then  won't 
you  be  in  a  fix  ?" 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Gus,  who  was  not  a  little 
alarmed. 

"But  remember  that  my  claim  is  to  be  settled 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  55 

first/'  continued  Sain.  "  You  have  owed  rne  money 
longer  than  you  have  owed  him,  and  I  want  you  to 
begin  to  pony  up.  I  am  tired  of  waiting." 

"  You  will  have  plenty  of  time  to  get  rested  again 
before  you  get  the  money,  and  so  will  that  Jew," 
thought  Gus,  as  he  turned  and  walked  back  to  his 
own  counter.  "  Is  it  any  wonder  that  I  want  to 
get  away  from  here  ?" 

No,  it  was  no  wonder  that  Gus  was  always  in 
trouble,  but  he  had  no  one  to  thank  for  it  but  him 
self,  lie  had  a  comfortable  home,  a  kind  father  and 
mother,  and  there  was  more  than  one  boy  in  the  city 
who  would  have  been  glad  to  change  places  with 
him.  The  great  trouble  with  Gus  was,  that  he 
would  not  work  if  he  could  help  it,  and  he  had  no 
idea  of  the  value  of  money. 

Mr.  Robbins,  who  had  once  been  a  poor  boy,  and 
who  had  earned  every  dollar  he  possessed  by  his 
own  unaided  efforts,  thought  that  every  youth  :ught 
to  learn  how  to  take  care  of  himself;  so  as  soon  as 
Gus  and  Bob  (that  was  the  name  of  Gus's  younger 
brother)  had  completed  the  course  at  the  High 
School,  they  were  placed  in  the  store,  given  the  free 
use  of  the  money  they  earned  and  assured  that  they 


56 

would  be  promoted  and  their  wages  increased  as  fast 
as  their  services  would  warrant.  They  each  received 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year,  and  that  was 
fifty  dollars  more  than  inexperienced  clerks  had  ever 
before  been  paid  in  that  store ;  but  Gus  declared 
that  it  was  but  little  better  than  nothing  at  all.  He 
had  some  very  grand  ideas,  and  was  frequently  heard 
to  say  that  he  did  not  intend  to  be  a  dry  goods* 
clerk  all  his  life. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  be,"  said  his  father,  who 
one  day  happened  to  be  standing  near  when  Gus 
made  this  declaration.  "  Clerks  are  necessary,  but 
if  you  have  brains  and  energy  enough  to  work  your 
way  up  higher,  I  shall  be  only  be  too  glad  to  see 
you  do  it.  I  hope  you  will  some  day  be  a  pros 
perous  merchant ;  but  you  never  can  be  unless  you 
know  all  about  business.  In  order  to  learn  it  you 
must  begin  at  the  beginning." 

u  And  work  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars," 
said  Gus.  "  How  is  a  fellow  to  get  rich  on  that,  I'd 
like  to  know?" 

"  By  saving  ;  that  is  the  only  way." 

"  But  I  have  nothing  to  save.  After  I  drew  my 
wages  last  month  I  bought  a  suit  of  clothes,  and  a 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  57 

dollar — just  one  little  dollar — was  all  I  had  to  show 
for  twenty-six  days'  work." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  with  that  one  little 
dollar?" 

"I— I  believe  I  spent  it." 

"  Of  course  you  did.  If  you  had  saved  it  you 
would  have  been  just  a  dollar  ahead." 

"And  if  I  saved  a  dollar  every  month,  I  should 
have  just  twelve  dollars  at  the  end  of  the  year,"  said 
Gus.  "That's  a  magnificent  sum." 

"  But  you  don't  need  a  suit  of  new  clothes  every 
thirty  days,  and  most  of  the  time  you  could  save 
more  than  a  dollar  a  month.  The  amount  of  your 
savings  is  not  so  important  as  it  is  that  you  should 
get  in  the  way  of  saving  something — no  matter  how 
small  the  amount  may  be.  If  you  begin  by  saving 
four  dollars  every  month,  you  will  find  it  just  as 
easy  after  a  while  to  save  eight ;  for  good  habits, 
.ike  bad  ones,  grow  stronger  every  day." 

"But  I  can't  be  satisfied  to  plod  along  in  that 
way,"  said  Gus,  to  himself.  "  If  I  could  have  two 
Dr  three  hundred  dollars  all  in  a  lump,  so  that  I 
could  buy  some  things  I  need,  pay  all  my  debts  arid 
Lave  a  good- si  zed  nest-egg  left,  I  might  get  up 


58  GEORGE   IN   CAMP;    OR, 

ambition  enough  to  go  to  saving ;  but  this  thing  of 
laying  by  pennies — Pshaw  !" 

Mr.  Bobbins  often  talked  to  his  boys  in  this  way, 
and  he  had  finally  succeeded  in  convincing  Bob  that 
it  was  not  best  to  despise  the  day  of  small  things, 
and  that  the  surest  road  to  prosperity  was  the  one 
his  father  had  pointed  out.  Like  his  brother,  Bob 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  spending  every  cent  he 
made,  and  more,  too,  if  he  could  get  it;  but  of  late 
he  had  taken  to  saving,  and  now  he  had  grown  to  be, 
to  quote  from  Gus,  "  the  very  quintescence  of  mean 
ness."  But  he  had  money  in  the  bank,  and  being 
safely  out  of  debt,  he  was  not  continually  harassed 
by  duns  as  his  brother  was.  More  than  that,  he  got 
into  the  way  of  being  very  attentive  to  his  work 
(one  good  habit  leads  to  another,  you  know),  and 
before  he  had  been  in  the  store  a  year  he  was  given 
entire  charge  of  one  branch  of  his  father's  business, 
and  his  wages  were  increased. 

This  left  Gus  at  the  very  lowest  round  of  the 
ladder.  He  was  obliged  to  open  the  store  in  the 
morning,  build  the  fires  and  sweep  out,  and  he 
looked  upon  this  as  very  degrading  work.  He  grew 
more  negligent  and  discontented  every  day,  and 
always  made  it  a  point,  after  the  store  was  closed  for 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  59 

the  night,  to  make  up  for  the  tiresome  hours  he  had 
spent  behind  the  counter.  He  often  wished  for  Ned 
Ackerman-  When  the  latter  was  in  his  father's 
employ  he  had  a  companion  who  was  always  ready 
to  join  him  in  any  thing ;  but  Ned  was  in  Texas, 
Bob  had  gone  back  on  him,  and  Gus  was  very 
lonely. 

Our  discontented  dry-goods  clerk  received  a  very 
severe  blow,  and  the  little  ambition  he  had  was  all 
crushed  out  of  him  when  his  younger  brother  was 
placed  over  him.  It  was  a  disgrace  that  he  could 
not  put  up  with,  and  so  he  tried  to  run  away  from 
it.  There  was  a  news-depot  for  sale  in  the  city, 
and  Gus  could  have  purchased  it  on  very  advan 
tageous  terms,  if  he  had  only  had  the  money ;  but 
he  didn't  have  it.  Mr.  Robbins,  who  knew  more 
about  his  son's  habits  than  Gus  thought  he  did, 
would  not  advance  it,  and  so  Gus  was  obliged  to 
stay  in  the  store.  Everything  seemed  to  be  work 
ing  against  him,  and  Gus  grew  desperate.  He 
spent  his  money  as  fast  as  it  was  paid  to  him,  and 
when  it  gave  out,  he  went  as  deeply  in  debt  as  he 
could  go.  lie  had  always  been  able  to  satisfy  his 
creditors  by  paying  them  a  little  every  month ;  but 


60  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OB, 

now  they  were  getting  impatient,  and  were  all  pre 
senting  their  bills  at  once. 

" Fifteen  dollars!"  repeated  Gus,  as  he  walked 
toward  his  own  counter.  "  To-morrow  afternoon  !" 
he  murmured,  as  he  chucked  one  of  the  bolts  of 
calico  spitefully  upon  the  shelf.  "  Moses !  won't 
there  be  a  row,  unless  I  can  think  up  some  plausible 
story  between  this  time  and  that !  I  must  owe  at 
least  fifty  dollars — almost  three  months'  wages.  I 
wish  I  could  leave  here  this  very  night,  and  never 
set  eyes  on  this  town  again  !  But  how  can  I  get 
away  without  money?  That's  the  question." 

Just  then  Gus  heard  something  fall  on  the 
counter,  and  looked  up  to  see  his  brother  Bob 
walking  through  the  store,  with  a  bundle  of  letters 
and  papers  in  his  hand.  He  had  just  returned 
from  the  post-office,  and  had  thrown  a  letter  for  his 
brother  on  the  counter,  as  he  passed  by. 

"  Just  look  at  young  Dignity!"  said  Gus,  as  his 
brother  disappeared  through  the  door  that  led  into 
the  office.  "  One  would  think,  by  the  airs  he 
throws  on,  that  he  owned  the  store !  Who  has 
been  writing  to  me,  I  wonder!" 

Gus  allowed  the  letter  to  lie  where  it  had  fallen, 
until  he  had  cleared  the  counter,  folded  all  the 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  61 

goods  and  placed  them  on  the  shelves,  where  they 
belonged.  Then  he  picked  it  up  and  glanced  at  the 
envelope,  fully  expecting  to  recognise  the  hand 
writing  of  some  of  his  creditors,  who  not  unfre- 
quently  wrote  notes  to  him,  to  remind  him  that 
there  was  a  little  balance  due  them,  which  they 
would  be  happy  to  receive  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment  that  he  could  make  it  convenient  to  hand 
it  to  them.  But  this  letter  was  not  from  a  creditor. 
It  was  from  Ned  Ackerman,  the  very  boy  who  had 
been  in  his  thoughts  a  score  of  times  that  day. 
Gus  ran  his  eyes  hastily  over  the  last  few  lines 
above  the  signature,  and  saw  something  in  them 
that  excited  and  delighted  him. 

"  Hurrah!"  said  he  to  himself.  "Plague  take 
it!" 

These  two  exclamations,  so  different  in  meaning, 
were  called  forth  by  very  different  emotions.  He 
had  read  enough  of  the  letter  to  learn  that  his  old 
friend  Ned  was  having  a  fine  time  down  there  in 
Texas ;  that  he  was  lonely  in  spite  of  it,  and 
wanted  Gus  and  his  brother  to  come  on  and  pay 
him  a  long  visit ;  and  that  the  want  of  money  need 
not  prevent  them  from  doing  so,  for  Ned  would 
send  them  enough  to  pay  their  fare  and  all  other 


62  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

expenses.  But  before  Gus  could  read  any  farther, 
he  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  two  or  three 
ladies,  who  came  up  to  his  counter.  They  proved 
to  be  very  exacting,  too,  and  Gus  handed  down  a 
good  many  different  kinds  of  cloth  for  their  inspec 
tion.  He  fumed  inwardly  and  used  some  hard 
words  to  himself,  while  he  was  doing  it,  and  as 
soon  as  the  ladies  had  departed,  he  caught  up  his 
letter  and  read  it  through. 

"Of  course  I'll  go,"  said  he,  so  delighted  with  the 
idea  that  he  hardly  knew  what  he  was  about ;  "  but 
Bob  shan't !  We  don't  want  him,  and  so  I'll  say 
nothing  to  him  about  this  letter.  I  shan't  say  any 
thing  to  father  either,  for  he  would  be  sure  to  tell 
me  to  stay  at  home." 

Gus  had  found  a  way  out  of  his  troubles  at  last. 
He  wrote  a  reply  to  Ned's  letter  that  very  night, 
and  was  as  impatient  to  hear  from  him  again  as 
Ned  was  to  hear  from  Gus.  He  made  no  effort  to 
raise  money  to  pay  his  debts,  and  indeed  he  did  not 
intend  to  pay  them  at  all.  He  went  to  see  all  his 
creditors,  as  soon  as  he  could  find  time,  just  to  keep 
them  from  calling  upon  him  at  the  store,  and  by 
making  them  some  very  fair  promises,  he  succeeded 
in  quieting  them  for  a  while.  When  that  was  done, 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  63 

he  breathed  easier,  and  the  only  thing  he  had  to 
worry  over  and  feel  anxious  about  was  the  expected 
letter  from  Ned,  which  he  hoped  would  bring  a 
check  for  the  money  he  needed,  and  contain  instruc 
tions  as  to  the  route  he  was  to  travel,  in  order  to 
reach  Palos. 

u  And  when  I  get  there  I'll  stay,"  Gus  often  told 
himself.  "  I  shall  never  come  back.  I've  had 
enough  of  this  miserable  life.  What  will  I  do  and 
where  shall  I  go  after  I  have  finished  my  visit  ?  I 
am  sure  I  don't  know.  That  is  a  matter  I  will 
decide  whan  the  time  comes.  I  do  hope  Ned  will 
have  no  trouble  in  raising  the  money." 

Gus  was  not  disappointed  in  his  hopes.  Ned  was 
so  anxious  to  have  him  there  that  he  did  not  delay 
writing,  and  in  due  time  the  looked-for  letter  ar 
rived.  Gus  could  hardly  control  his  exultation  from 
those  around  him.  He  wrote  to  his  friend  at  once, 
saying  that  he  would  start  in  a  week,  and  that  Ned 
must  make  his  own  calculations  as  to  the  time  his 
visitor  would  reach  Palos,  as  he  (Gus)  had  not  she 
slightest  idea  how  long  it  would  take  him  to  make 
the  journey,  and  Ned  had  forgotten  to  enlighten  him 
on  this  point. 

Gus  wanted  to  wait  a  week  longer  in  order  that 


64  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

he  might  draw  the  twenty  dollars  and  more  that 
would  then  be  due  him  from  the  store.  It  was  the 
longest  week  lie  had  ever  lived  through,  and  the 
hardest  too  ;  but  it  came  to  an  end  at  last,  and  pay 
day  arrived.  Gus  drew  his  money  when  Bob  did, 
and  as  soon  as  he  had  put  it  into  his  pocket,  he 
slipped  out  the  back  door  into  an  alley  that  ran 
behind  the  store,  and  started  for  home.  He  made 
his  way  to  the  room  in  which  he  and  Bob  slept, 
opened  his  trunk  with  a  key  he  took  from  his  pocket, 
deposited  his  money  therein  and  took  out  the  check 
which  he  had  kept  locked  up  in  the  trunk  ever  since 
it  arrived. 

"It  is  time  to  get  this  cashed  now,"  said  he.  "I 
put  it  off  until  the  last  moment  because  I  didn't 
want  to  give  anybody  a  chance  to  talk  about  it.  I 
don't  know  what  the  cashier  will  think  when  I 
present  it  at  the  bank,  and  I  don't  care  either,  if  he 
will  only  give  me  the  money.  I  hope  Sam  will  have 
a  good  time  getting  what  I  owe  him.  He  was  wait 
ing  at  the  office  door  to  catch  me  when  I  came  out, 
and  that  was  the  reason  I  slipped  into  the  alley." 

Gus  locked  his  trunk,  put  the  key  and  check 
carefully  away  in  his  pocket  and  hurriedly  left  the 
house.  Time  was  precious  (he  had  less  than  half 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  65 

aii  hour  left  in  which  to  eat  his  dinner  and  return 
to  the  store)  and  he  made  all  the  haste  he  could. 
He  was  particularly  nnxious  to  get  through  with 
his  business  at  the  bank,  for  he  had  been  dreading 
it  all  the  week.  What  would  the  folks  in  there 
think  when  he  approached  the  cashier's  desk  and 
presented  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars  ?  He  ran 
up  the  steps  while  he  was  thinking  about  it,  and 
almost  into  the  arms  of  the  very  person  he  most 
wished  to  avoid  just  then — the  one  who  had  waited 
to  dun  him  when  he  came  out  of  his  father's  office. 
Sam  had  drawn  his  month's  wages  and  came  to  the 
bank  to  deposit  them. 

"  Hallo  !"  exclaimed  Sam.  "  Where  did  you  go 
in  such  a  hurry  after  you  drew  your  money  ?  I 
didn't  see  you  come  out  of  the  office." 

"But  I  did  come  out,  you  see;  for  if  I  had 
stayed  in,  I  couldn't  be  here,  could  I?" 

"  Hold  on,"  said  Sam,  as  Gus  tried  to  push  him 
aside  so  that  he  could  enter  the  door.  "  This  is  a 
good  time  to  settle  up." 

"  I  will  settle  with  you  this  afternoon,  sure  pop," 
returned  Gus. 

"  Why  can't  you  do  it  now  ?  You  have  got  your 
money,  for  I  saw  you  draw  it." 


66  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  I  know  it,  but  I  haven't  got  it  now.  I'll  be  on 
hand  this  evening — sure." 

"You  said  this  afternoon,"  answered  Sam,  look 
ing  suspiciously  at  Gus. 

"Well,  this  afternoon,  then." 

So  saying,  Gus  crowded  past  Sam  and  went  into 
the  bank.  To  his  great  relief  there  was  no  one  in 
front  of  the  cashier's  desk ;  no  one  present  to  see 
him  receive  his  hundred  dollars.  With  a  beating 
heart  and  trembling  hand  he  produced  his  check, 
and  breathed  a  good  deal  easier  when  he  saw  that 
the  cashier  did  not  exhibit  any  surprise  at  its 
magnitude.  He  was  in  hopes  that  the  man  would 
be  in  a  hurry  about  cashing  it,  but  instead  of  that 
he  was  very  deliberate  in  his  movements.  He  looked 
at  the  check  on  all  sides  and  then  he  looked  at 
Gus. 

"  Who  is  this  John  Ackerman  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  used  to  be  father's  book-keeper,  you  knew," 
said  Gus. 

"  0,  yes!  Do  you  want  us  to  collect  this  for 
you?" 

"No,  sir;  I  want  the  money  on  it  now." 

"All  right,"  said  the  cashier,  handing  the  check 
over  the  counter.  "  Write  your  name  across  the 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  67 

back  of  it,  and  then  take  it  home  and  let  your  father 
sign  it." 

"My  father!"  exclaimed  Gus.  "Not  much.  I 
mean — what  do  you  want  his  signature  for?"  he 
added  hastily,  and  in  great  confusion,  for  the  cashier 
looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  somewhat  surprised  at 
his  earnestness. 

"  To  make  ourselves  secure,"  said  the  cashier,  by 
way  of  explanation.  "  You  see,  Gus,  this  check  is 
drawn  by  John  Ackerman  on  the  Planters'  Bank  of 
Austin,  Texas.  He  may  have  funds  there,  but  he 
has  none  here,  and  neither  have  you ;  and  it  is  our 
rule  in  such  cases  to  require  an  endorsement  other 
than  that  of  the  payee.  You  are  the  payee,  you 
know — the  one  to  whom  the  check  is  made  payable. 
Your  father  will  sign  it." 

Gus  felt  like  giving  vent  to  his  astonishment  and 
rage  in  a  series  of  the  wildest  kind  of  yells,  and  it 
was  all  he  could  do  to  choke  back  his  tears.  As 
soon  as  he  had  controlled  himself  so  that  he  could 
speak,  he  said  : 

"  I  don't  want  to  ask  my  father  to  endorse  it. 
This  is  my  own  private  affair,  and  I  don't  want  you 
to  say  anything  about  it." 


68  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  Of  course  not.  We  never  talk  about  our  busi 
ness  matters." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  to  collect  it  ?" 

"  Well,  Austin  is  a  long  distance  from  here,  and 
it  will  take  two  or  three  weeks  at  least." 

"  Great  Caesar  !"  was  Gus's  mental  exclamation. 
"  Can  I  stand  it  to  stay  in  the  store  so  much  longer  ? 
Very  well,"  he  said  aloud,  "  I  shall  have  to  ask  you 
to  collect  it  for  me,  if  that  is  the  best  I  can  do." 

Gus  turned  about  and  walked  out  of  the  bank  like 
one  in  a  dream.  He  had  never  in  his  life  before 
been  so  badly  disappointed.  The  reflection  that  if 
he  remained  in  the  store  a  mjonth  longer,  and  could 
save  all  the  money  he  earned  in  that  time,  he  would 
have  twenty  dollars  more  to  be  added  to  the  sum  he 
already  possessed,  did  not  encourage  him  in  the 
least.  He  wanted  his  liberty  more  than  he  wanted 
a  month's  wages,  and  besides  he  was  by  no  means 
sure  that  he  would  be  able  to  save  what  he  earned. 
If  his  creditors  became  weary  of  having  their  debts 
paid  by  promises,  and  presented  their  bills  to  his 
father,  Gus  knew  that  they  would  be  promptly 
settled,  and  that  he  could  not  draw  a  cent  at  the 
end  of  the  month.  He  turned  these  matters  over  in 
his  mind  while  he  was  eating  his  dinner,  and  the 


LIFE   ON  THE   PLAINS. 


longer  he  pondered  upon  them  the  more  he  felt  like 
yelling.  There  were  no  customers  in  the  store  when 
he  returned,  but  Sam  was  leaning  over  the  counter 
waiting  for  him. 


70  GEORGE  IN  CAMP:  OR, 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CLERK'S  RUSE. 

~  WAS  in  hopes  we  should  be  kept  so  busy  this 
afternoon  that  Sam  wouldn't  have  a  chance  to 
speak  to  me,"  thought  Gus,  as  he  made  his  way  to 
the  office  and  hung  up  his  hat  and  overcoat,  "  but 
it  is  just  my  luck.  If  I  wanted  a  few  minutes 
rest  the  store  would  be  so  full  of  customers  that  you 
couldn't  crowd  a  ramrod  in  among  them." 

"Well?"  said  Sam,  when  the  boy  came  out  of 
the  office  and  took  his  place  behind  the  counter. 

"Well,"  answered  Gus,  "I  can't  pay  you  this 
month.  I  have  had  so  many  calls  that  my  money 
is  all  used  up.  Twenty  dollars  don't  go  far,  you 
know." 

Sam's  face  grew  black  at  once.  "  Didn't  I  tell 
you  that  my  claim  was  to  be  settled  first?"  he  de 
manded,  angrily. 

"  Yes ;  but  what  am  I  to  do  when  a  man  stops 
me  in  the  street  and  tells  me  that  if  I  don't  pay  up 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  71 

then  and  there,  he  will  see  my  father  about  it  before 
I  am  an  hour  older?"  asked  Gus. 

"  Put  him  off  with  promises,  as  you  do  me.  Who 
stopped  you  on  the  street?" 

"  That  Jew." 

"  Did  you  pay  him  ?" 

"  I  did — not."  The  last  word  Gus  said  to  him 
self. 

"  Well,  you  still  have  five  dollars  left.  Hand 
that  over  and  I  will  give  you  credit  for  it." 

"But  I  haven't  got  it.     I  paid  that  out,  too." 

Sam  whistled  softly  to  himself  and  drummed  with 
his  fingers  on  the  counter  for  a  moment ;  then  he 
drew  a  sheet  of  white  wrapping-paper  toward  him 
and  pulled  a  pencil  from  his  pocket.  The  pencil 
moved  rapidly  over  the  paper  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
after  Sam  had  read  what  he  had  written,  he  crossed 
over  to  Gus's  side  of  the  store  and  laid  before  him 
the  following : — 

44  $12.00.  Foxboro',  Jan.  29th  18— 

ROBBINS    &    CO. 

Please  pay  Samuel  Holmes  Twelve  Dollars  out 
of  my  next  month's  wages,  and  charge  the  same  to 
my  account." 


72  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

"  There,  Gus,  '  said  he,  "  sign  that,  and  I  shall 
begin  to  believe  that  I  stand  a  chance  of  getting  the 
money  I  lent  you  to  help  you  out  of  a  tight  place." 

"Twelve  dollars!"  exclaimed  Gus.  "I  bor 
rowed  only  ten." 

"But  I  don't  lend  money  for  nothing,"  replied 
Sam,  "  and  besides  I  must  have  something  to  pay 
me  for  waiting  so  long,  and  for  the  trouble  I  have 
had  in  collecting  it." 

Gus  took  a  minute  to  think  about  it,  then  seized 
the  pencil  and  wrote  his  name  at  the  bottom  of  the 
order.  Sam  thrust  it  into  his  pocket  and  putting 
on  his  hat  left  the  store. 

"  I  don't  run  any  risk  by  that,"  said  Gus  to  him 
self.  "  Sam  will  not  present  the  order  before  the 
1st  of  March,  and  by  that  time,  if  things  work  as 
I  hope  they  will,  I  shall  be  a  good  many  miles  from 
here.  What  miserable  luck  some  fellows  do  have  in 
this  world,  anyhow.  I  thought  I  should  have  no 
trouble  in  getting  the  money  on  that  check  to-day. 
Where  has  Sam  gone,  I  wonder  ?" 

As  Gus  asked  himself  this  question  an  expres 
sion  of  alarm  settled  on  his  face.  He  ran  quickly  to 
the  door,  and  looking  down  the  street  saw  that  Sam 
was  just  disappearing  in  the  cigar  store  on  the 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  73 

corner.  The  boy's  heart  began  to  oeat  a  little 
faster,  for  he  knew  now,  as  well  as  he  did  five  min 
utes  later,  what  it  was  that  took  Sam  to  Mr. 
Meyers's  place  of  business.  He  stood  in  the  door 
until  Sam  came  out,  and  then  he  retreated  behind 
his  counter  and  employed  himself  in  straightening 
up  the  goods  on  the  shelves. 

"  Gus,"  said  Sam,  when  he  had  hung  his  hat  in 
its  accustomed  place,  "lie,  number  one  thousand  and 
one,  is  nailed.  Meyers  says  he  hasn't  seen  you 
to-day." 

"  Suppose  he  hasn't !"  snapped  Gus,  who  had 
been  caught  in  so  many  falsehoods  that  he  had 
become  used  to  it. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  the  truth  once  in  a  while  ?" 
continued  Sam  ;  "say  once  a  week,  or  even  once  a 
month,  if  you  can't  stand  it  any  oftener.  You  will 
get  so,  pretty  soon,  that  nobody  will  believe  a  word 
you  say." 

"Why  don't  you  keep  from  sticking  your  nose 
into  matters  that  don't  concern  you  ?"  exclaimed 
Gus,  angrily. 

"  This  matter  does  concern  me.  Now,  I  wan't  to 
know  what  has  become  of  that  money  you  drew 
to-day." 


74  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  It  is  none  of  your  business.  Do  you  under 
stand  that?" 

"Yes,  I  understand  it,"  said  Sam,  so  quietly  that 
Gus  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Then  you  may  as  well  understand  another  thing, 

while  you  are  about  it,"  continued  the  latter,  "  and 

that  is,  that  from  this  time  out  you  are  to  attend  to 

your  own  affairs  and  let  me  entirely  alone.    What  I 

•do  with  my  money  is  none  of  your  business." 

"I  generally  do  attend  to  my  own  affairs,"  re 
plied  Sam,  "  and  I  shall  attend  to  yours  in  a  way 
you  don't  think  of.  You  haven't  started  for  Texas, 
yet!' 

Gus  jumped  as  if  he  had  been  shot.  He  could 
hardly  bring  himself  to  believe  that  he  had  heard 
aright.  He  had  guarded  his  secret  as  closely  as  a 
boy  could.  Having  no  intimate  friend  to  assist  him 
in  keeping  it,  he  had  not  lisped  a  word  of  it  to  any 
body  ;  but  it  had  leaked  out  after  all,  and  Sam 
seemed  to  know  all  about  it. 

"  Tex "  said  Gus,  drawing  a  long  breath  and 

leaning  heavily  on  the  counter,  "  as  !" 

"  Yes !  You  have  laid  your  plans  to  skip  out 
and  leave  us  all  in  the  lurch,  but  you  shan't  do  it ! 
I  must  have  what  you  owe  me  first ;  and  when  you 


LIFE    OX   THE   PLAINS.  75 

get  the  money  on  that  check,  I  will  tell  you  how 
much  I  want  of  it  to  pay  me  for  the  trouble  of  keep 
ing  your  secret.  I  know  you  didn't  get  the  money 
to-day." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  stammered  Gus, 
growing  more  and  more  astonished  and  bewildered. 

"  That's  my  business  !"  was  the  satisfactory 
reply. 

Just  then  a  customer  came  in  and  moved  up  to 
Sam's  side  of  the  store,  and  this  gave  Gus  an  oppor 
tunity  to  collect  his  scattered  wits,  and  think  over 
what  Sam  had  just  told  him.  How  in  the  world 
had  the  latter  learned  his  secret  ?  was  a  question 
that  Gus  asked  himself  over  and  over  again,  but 
without  finding  any  satisfactory  answer.  It  was  too 
deep  a  mystery  for  him  to  solve  just  then,  for  he 
was  so  utterly  confounded  that  he  could  not  think 
at  all. 

"You  haven't  started  for  Texas  yet,"  and 
"  when  you  get  the  money  on  that  check,  I  will  tell 
you  how  much  I  want  of  it  to  pay  me  for  the  trouble 
of  keeping  your  secret,"  were  the  words  that  were 
constantly  passing  through  the  boy's  mind,  and  he 
could  not  drive  them  out  long  enough  to  decide 
what  he  ought  to  do.  If  he  had  any  means  of  find- 


76  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

ing  out  just  how  much  Sam  knew,  he  might  be  able 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  something. 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  I  am  to  find  that  out,' 
thought  Gus,  walking  nervously  up  and  down  the 
store,  "  for  of  course  he  won't  tell  me,  if  I  ask  him. 
The  whole  thing  bangs  me  completely.  I  know  I 
haven't  said  a  word  that  would  lead  him  or  anybody 
else  to  suspect  anything ;  but  he  has  got  hold  of  it 
somehow,  and  wants  a  part  of  my  hundred  dollars 
to  pay  him  for  keeping  his  mouth  shut.  He  shan't 
have  it !  No  matter  what  happens,  he  shan't  have 
it,  for  I  don't  know  how  much  I  shall  need  to  pay 
my  expenses." 

Both  the  clerks  were  kept  busy  that  afternoon, 
Gus  at  his  counter  and  Sam  in  unpacking  and 
arranging  a  new  supply  of  goods  that  arrived  about 
one  o'clock.  Gus  could  not  keep  his  mind  on  his 
work,  for  he  was  continually  thinking  about  this 
last  piece  of  bad  luck,  and  wondering  how  he  should 
go  to  work  to  "pump"  Sam,  in  order  to  find  out 
just  how  much  the  latter  knew  about  his  contem 
plated  movements.  Once  during  the  afternoon, 
when  the  store  was  clear  of  customers,  he  had  occa 
sion  to  pass  through  the  warehouse,  where  Sam  was 
at  work,  breaking  open  the  boxes  in  which  the  new 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  77 

goods  were  packed.  The  latter  was  at  work  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  and  his  coat  lay  wrong  side  out  upon 
one  of  the  boxes.  As  Gus  passed  by  it,  something 
caught  his  eye.  He  noticed  that  there  were  several 
letters  sticking  out  of  the  inside  pocket  of  the  coat, 
and  that  they  were  all  enclosed  in  brown  envelopes, 
except  one.  That  envelope  was  white,  and  there 
was  something  about  it  that  looked  familiar.  Gus 
drew  nearer  to  it,  and  was  astonished  almost  beyond 
measure  to  see  that  it  bore  his  own  name  in  Ned 
Ackerman's  handwriting  !, 

The  whole  mystery  was  made  perfectly  plain  to 
Gus  at  once.  The  letter  in  question  was  the  last  he 
had  received  from  his  friend  in  Texas — the  one  in 
which  the  check  was  sent.  On  the  day  it  arrived, 
Gus  had  kept  it  by  him  all  the  afternoon,  devoting 
every  leisure  moment  to  reading  it,  and,  instead  of 
taking  it  home  with  him  at  night,  as  he  meant  to 
have  done,  and  as  he  thought  he  had  done,  he  left 
it  on  the  long  shelf  behind  his  counter,  and  Sam 
had  found  it  there.  He  had  been  mean  enough  to 
read  it,  too ;  and  then,  instead  of  putting  it  back 
where  he  found  it,  he  kept  it,  intending  to  use  it  to 
extort  money  from  Gus. 

And  right  here,  wo  may  add  something  that  the 


78  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

reader  ought  to  know,  and  that  Gus  never  found 
out.  When  Sam  met  Gus  going  into  the  bank,  his 
suspicions  were  aroused,  and  he  stood  in  front  of  the 
window  and  watched  his  movements.  He  thought 
that  Gus  was  going  to  deposit  the  wages  he  had  just 
received,  instead  of  paying  up  his  debts,  as  he  ought 
to  have  done ;  but  when  he  saw  him  present  the 
check,  mentioned  in  the  letter  he  had  stolen,  Sam 
knew  that  Gus  was  making  arrangements  to  leave 
the  city  very  shortly.  He  saw  that  Gus  did  not 
receive  the  money,  and  that  he  did  not  bring  the 
check  out  with  him ;  so  it  must  have  been  left  in 
the  bank  for  collection. 

The  rest  of  the  boy's  plans  Sam  guessed  at.  He 
knew  that  Gus  was  very  discontented;  that  he 
thought  he  would  rather  follow  any  business  in  the 
world  than  his  own ;  that  he  imagined  he  would  be 
happier  anywhere  on  earth  than  he  was  in  Fox- 
boro';  that  Mr.  Robbins  would  never  permit  his 
son  to  go  to  Texas  on  a  visit,  especially  to  meet 
such  a  fellow  as  Ned  Ackerman,  whose  influence 
over  his  associates  was  always  a  bad  one.  Sam 
knew  all  these  things,  and  by  putting  them 
together,  he  arrived  at  a  conclusion  which  we 
know  to  be  the  correct  one. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  79 

"  That's  Sam's  game,"  thought  Gus,  swelling 
with  indignation.  "  He  intends  to  hold  that  letter 
over  me  as  a  sort  of  whip  to  make  me  do  just  as  he 
says;  but  it'll  not  succeed.  He  knows  everything, 
and  I  must  mind  what  I  am  about.  The  first  thing 
I  do  will  be  -to  take  what  belongs  to  me." 

Gus  came  a  step  nearer  to  the  box,  intending  to 
snatch  the  letter  and  walk  off  with  it,  leaving  Sam 
to  help  himself  if  he  could ;  but  after  an  instant's 
reflection  he  decided  to  adopt  a  different  course.  It 
would  not  be  wise,  he  thought,  to  bring  on  an  open 
rupture  with  Sam,  for  the  latter  might  pay  him  back 
by  telling  his  employer  about  his  son's  Texas  scheme, 
and  that  was  something  that  must  be  kept  from  his 
father's  ears  at  all  hazards. 

"  That  would  never  do,"  said  Gus,  as  these 
thoughts  passed  through  his  mind.  "  I  must  wait 
until  he  turns  his  back." 

This  Sam  was  accommodating  enough  to  do  in  a 
very  few  minutes.  As  soon  as  he  had  taken  an 
armful  of  bales  out  of  the  box  he  had  just  opened, 
he  picked  them  up,  carried  them  into  the  store  and 
laid  them  on  the  counter.  He  was  gone  scarcely 
more  than  half  a  minute,  but  that  was  all  the  time 
Gus  needed  to  accomplish  his  object.  He  seized  the 


80  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

letter,  thrust  it  into  his  own  pocket  and  walked  out 
into  the  store,  feeling  as  though  a  heavy  load  had 
been  removed  from  his  shoulders.  He  fully  expected 
that  Sam  would  make  trouble  for  him  very  shortly, 
and  he  prepared  himself  for  it ;  but  Sam  did  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  When  he  discovered  his  loss  he 
probably  thought  that  he  had  mislaid  the  letter  or 
that  it  had  dropped  out  of  his  pocket.  At  any  rate 
he  said  nothing  to  Gus  about  it. 

Gus  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Ned  that  night,  telling 
him  of  all  the  bad  luck  that  had  befallen  him  of 
late,  and  describing  his  plans  for  the  future,  and 
then  he  settled  back  into  his  old  monotonous  life 
again.  The  store  had  never  looked  so  dreary  and 
uninviting  as  it  did  now,  and  neither  had  his  work 
ever  been  so  distasteful  to  him.  Gus  never  could 
have  endured  it,  so  he  told  himself  more  than  once, 
if  he  had  not  been  sustained  and  encouraged  by  the 
belief  that  it  would  end  in  a  very  few  days,  and  that 
when  once  he  was  away  from  home  and  could  do  as 
he  pleased,  he  would  have  fun  enough  to  make  up 
for  all  the  gloomy  hours  he  had  spent  behind  the 
counter. 

After  the  second  week  had  passed  Gus  made  it  a 
point  to  call  at  the  bank  every  few  days  to  see  if  his 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  81 

chock  had  been  heard  from,  and  when  he  came  out 
he  always  found  that  Sam,  who  went  to  his  meals  at 
the  same  time  Gus  did,  was  loitering  on  the  side- 
Walk  in  front  of  the  window. 

"Let  him  watch,"  thought  Gus,  who  grew  angry 
whenever  he  caught  even  the  smallest  glimpse  of 
Sam.  "If  I  am  not  smart  enough  to  outwit  him  I 
ought  to  lose  every  cent  of  that  money." 

"I  wonder  what's  the  matter?"  thought  Sam, 
when  he  saw  Gus  go  into  the  bank  and  come  out 
again  with  the  very  long  face  he  always  wore  when 
he  was  disappointed.  "  They  ought  certainly  to 
have  heard  from  that  check  by  this  time.  Well, 
there's  one  thing  about  it:  Gus  can't  get  the 
money  without  my  knowing  it,  because  the  only 
time  he  can  get  into  the  bank  is  when  he  goes  to  his 
dinner,  and  I  shall  always  be  on  hand  to  watch  him." 

One  day,  after  Gus  had  grown  very  impatient, 
and  had  begun  to  fear  that  his  check  had  been  lost 
on  the  way,  and  that  he  would  never  hear  from  it 
again,  he  happened  to  meet  the  cashier,  who  was 
also  going  home  to  his  dinner.  "  It  is  all  right 
at  last,  Gus,"  said  the  latter,  cheerfully. 

The  boy's  gloomy  expression  of  countenance, 
which  he  had  worn  for  several  days  past,  vanished 


82  GEOKGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

at  once.  "Has  the  money  come?"  he  asked  as  soon 
as  he  could  speak. 

"No;  but  we  have  heard  from  the  check,  and 
will  cash  it  for  you  whenever  you  please." 

"And  you  won't  want  my  father's  signature?" 

"  No.  You  fill  out  a  draft — you'll  find  blanks  at 
the  bank — making  it  payable  to  'self  and  sign 
your  name  to  it,  and  I'll  give  you  the  money. 
That's  all  there  is  of  it." 

The  cashier  went  on  his  way,  and  Gus  looked  up 
and  down  the  streets  and  on  all  sides  of  him  to 
make  sure  that  Sam  had  not  been  a  witness  of  the 
interview.  But  the  latter  was  nowhere  in  sight. 
He  had  followed  Gus  at  a  distance,  as  he  did  every 
day,  to  satisfy  himself  that  he  did  not  go  to  the 
bank  and  draw  the  money,  and  then  he  turned 
toward  his  own  home.  He  was  fooled  for  once,  and 
with  this  reflection  to  encourage  him  Gus  walked 
slowly  toward  his  father's  house,  and  making  his  way 
to  his  own  room  threw  himself  upon  the  bed.  He 
did  not  answer  the  dinner-bell  when  it  rang,  and 
presently  his  mother,  who  had  heard  him  enter 
the  house,  came  up  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

"Why,  Augustus,  are  you  ill?"  she  asked,  with 
some  anxiety. 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  83 

"  No,  ma'am ;  but  I  don't  want  any  dinner,"  was 
the  reply. 

Moral  philosophy  teaches  us  that  we  can  speak 
the  truth  and  at  the  same  time  tell  a  lie,  and  Gus 
certainly  did  on  this  occasion.  He  told  nothing  but 
the  truth  when  he  said  that  he  was  not  sick  and 
didn't  want  any  dinner ;  but  the  tone  in  which  he 
said  it,  and  his  manner,  made  his  mother  believe 
that  he  was  not  well,  and  that  was  just  what  he 
wanted  her  to  believe.  He  didn't  want  any  tea  or 
toast  either,  he  said.  He  only  asked  to  be  let  alone 
so  that  he  could  rest  until  it  was  time  for  him  to  go 
down  to  the  store  again. 

But  Gus  knew  very  well  that  he  would  not  be 
expected  to  go  down  to  the  store  that  afternoon,  and 
he  wasn't.  His  father  came  up  to  see  him,  as  soon 
as  he  had  eaten  his  dinner,  and  told  him  to  stay  at 
home  until  he  felt  better,  and  Gus  did  stay  until 
about  half-past  two  o'clock.  Then  he  got  up  and 
went  down  to  the  bank.  The  draft  he  made  out  was 
promptly  cashed,  and  Gus,  with  the  money  in  his 
pocket,  crept  slowly  homeward  and  went  to  bed 
again. 

"  There,"  said  he,  as  soon  as  he  had  settled  his 
head  on  the  pillow.  "  Where  are  you  now,  Mr. 


84  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

Sam  Holmes  ?  I've  got  my  money,  and  you  are 
none  the  wiser  for  it.  I  knew  I  could  outwit  you 
when  the  time  came." 

While  Gus  was  waiting  to  hear  from  his  check  he 
had  ample  leisure  to  perfect  all  his  plans,  and  now 
notUng  remained  to  be  done  but  to  pack  his  valise 
with  the  clothing  he  had  already  selected  and  laid 
by  itself,  and  go  down  to  the  depot  in  time  to  catch 
the  westward-bound  train  which  passed  through 
Foxboro'  at  half-past  eight  in  the  evening.  He  was 
somewhat  nervous,  for  he  knew  that  at  the  very  last 
moment  a  thousand  things  might  happen  to  inter 
fere  with  his  arrangements  :  but  he  did  not  think 
of  the  step  he  was  about  to  take  with  the  least  regret. 
He  knew  when  his  father  and  brother  came  home  at 
supper  time,  and  heard  them  when  they  went  out  to 
return  to  the  store.  After  that  his  mother  brought 
him  up  some  delicacies  that  sick  people  are  supposed 
to  relish ;  but  Gus,  although  he  was  by  this  time 
very  hungry,  said  he  didn't  care  for  anything,  and 
besides  he  showed  so  plainly  that  he  didn't  want  his 
mother  in  his  room,  that  she  went  down  stairs  and 
left  him  to  himself  again. 

There  was  no  fear  of  interruption  after  -that,  and 
Gus  set  about  completing  the  preparations  for  his 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  85 

flight.  He  quickly  packed  his  valise,  put  his  money 
carefully  away  in  his  pocket,  stopped  long  enough 
to  eat  all  the  supper  his  mother  had  brought  up  to 
him,  then  seized  his  valise  and  crept  down  stairs  and 
out  of  the  house.  He  made  his  way  toward  the 
depot,  avoiding  the  principal  streets  as  much  as  he 
could,  and  finally  reached  the  railroad  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  above  the  place  where  the  trains 
stopped.  There  was  a  freight-house  opposite  the 
depot,  and  toward  this  Gus  now  directed  his  course, 
intending  to  wait  there  in  the  dark  until  the  train 
arrived.  He  could  thus  avoid  the  crowd  which 
always  gathered  about  the  platform  at  train  time, 
and  by  boarding  the  cars  on  the  side  opposite  the 
dep6t,  he  could  escape  observation. 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  do,"  said  the  runaway  to 
himself,  as  he  took  his  stand  in  a  dark  doorway  and 
looked  down  the  track  to  see  if  he  could  discover 
any  signs  of  the  approaching  train,  "for  of  course 
I  wouldn't  be  very  smart  if  I  were  to  let  any  of 
these  loafers  see  me.  They  would  all  want  to  know 
where  I  was  going,  and  then  when  my  folks  began 
to  make  inquiries  about  me,  they  would  say  they 
had  seen  me  take  the  train  for  Chicago.  I  wouldn't 


86  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

like  to  have  that  known,  for  there  are  such  things  as 
telegraphs  and  detectives  in  this  country." 

If  Gus  had  only  known  it,  he  was  putting  him 
self  to  a  great  deal  of  unnecessary  trouble.  It 
might  have  astonished  him  to  know  that  even  if  his 
father  had  been  thoroughly  posted  in  all  his  plans, 
he  would  have  made  no  effort  to  prevent  Gus  from 
carrying  them  into  execution.  The  boy  found  this 
out  in  due  time,  and  we  shall  tell  about  it  in  its 
proper  place. 

A  good  many  incidents  that  were  really  worthy 
of  note  happened  during  Gus's  journey  to  Texas, 
but  we  have  so  many  things  to  write  about  that  are 
more  interesting  that  we  must  pass  them  by  without 
further  notice.  We  have  set  out  to  tell  what  Gus 
did  and  how  he  enjoyed  himself  in  Texas ;  and  it 
will  be  enough  now  to  say  that  he  made  the  journey 
in  safety ;  that  Ned's  instructions  were  so  plain  and 
complete  that  he  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  his 
way ;  and  that  in  due  time  the  mail-coach  deposited 
him  on  the  verandah  of  the  principal  hotel  in 
Paloa. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  87 


CHAPTER  VL, 

A   FRONTIER    HOTEL. 

F)  Y  the  time  Gus  reached  Palos  he  had  lost  a 
good  deal  of  the  "style"  for  which  he  had 
been  noted  in  Foxboro',  and  if  some  of  the  numer 
ous  acquaintances  he  had  left  there  could  have  seen 
him  when  he  stepped  out  of  the  stage  and  passed 
through  the  crowd  of  cattle-herders,  ranchemen  and 
idlers  who  had  gathered  on  the  verandah  of  the 
hotel  to  see  the  coach  come  in,  they  would  hardly 
have  taken  him  for  Gus  Bobbins.  If  some  of  the 
boys  who  think  so  much  of  themselves  could  get  out 
among  entire  strangers  for  a  while  they  would  very 
soon  see  how  small  is  the  space  they  occupy  in  the 
world,  and  how  comparatively  useless  they  are. 
This  was  just  what  Gus  had  been  finding  out.  He 
had  learned  a  good  deal  during  his  travels,  and  he 
had  already  seen  the  time  when  he  would  have  been 
glad  to  face  about  and  go  back  where  he  came  from. 
The  people  he  met  were  different  in  every  way 


88  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

from  those  with  whom  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
associating.  The  majority  of  them  were  rough  in 
person,  dress  and  manners;  and  although  they 
treated  him  civilly,  and  were  always  ready  to  answer 
his  questions  and  give  him  all  the  information  they 
could  concerning  the  journey  before  him,  Gus  was 
afraid  of  them  and  felt  like  avoiding  them  as  much 
as  he  could.  The  nearer  he  approached  to  the 
frontier  the  rougher  the  men  became.  A  good  many 
of  them  wore  red  shirts  without  any  coats,  high 
boots,  carried  revolvers  in  their  belts  and  looked 
more  like  brigands  than  peaceable,  law-abiding 
citizens.  The  crowd  on  the  verandah  were  all 
armed;  and  although  they  stepped  politely  out  of 
his  way,  Gus  could  not  help  shuddering  as  he  passed 
through  their  ranks.  The  man  who  met  him  at  the 
door  and  took  his  valise  out  of  his  hand,  and  who 
proved  to  be  the  landlord,  looked  worse  than  any  of 
the  rest.  He  wore  no  weapons,  but  the  brace  of 
navy  six-shooters  that  were  hung  up  in  the  office 
toward  which  he  conducted  his  guest,  showed  that  he 
was  ready  for  any  emergency.  Pie  looked  equal  to 
any  emergency,  too.  He  was  a  giant  in  size,  very 
muscular,  and  the  voice  that  came  up  from  his  broad 
chest  was  as  loud  as  a  steam- whistle. 


THE    ARRIVAL    AT    PALOS. 


LIFE    ON    THE    1'LAINS.  89 

"  Can  I  obtain  a  night's  lodging  here?"  asked 
Gus. 

"  I  reckon  ye  kin,  stranger,"  roared  the  host, 
"Yer  a  Yank!" 

"  0,  no  I  am  not,"  replied  the  boy,  who  knew 
there  had  been  a  civil  war  not  so  very  many  years 
ago,  and  that  the  Texans  were  mostly  all  rebels. 
"I'm  from  Ohio." 

"Wai,  what's  the  odds?"  demanded  the  host. 
"All  Northern  men  are  Yanks,  and  they  aint 
ashamed  of  it,  nuther.  I'm  one  myself.  I'm  from 
the  Green  Mountains." 

"From  Vermont?"  cried  Gus,  who  now  began  to 
feel  more  at  his  ease. 

"That's  the  very  identical  spot." 

"But  you're  a  Southerner  now,  I  suppose?"  said 
Gus,  who  thought  that  was  the  politest  way  in  which 
he  could  ask  the  man  if  he  was  a  rebel. 

"Do  you  mean  that  I'm  a  gray-back?"  exclaimed 
the  host.  "  Not  much.  All  the  relations  I  ever 
had  fit  under  the  old  flag,  and  I  couldn't  be  the  first 
of  the  family  to  go  agin  it.  I'm  powerful  glad  to 
see  you,  stranger.  Put  it  thar." 

The  man  held  out  an  immense  bony  hand  as  he 
spoke,  and  Gus  placed  his  own  within  it.  A 


90  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

moment  later  he  was  doubled  up  with  pain.  The 
Green  Mountain  boy's  greeting  was  almost  too 
cordial. 

"  Want  lodgin',  do  ye  ?  An'  breakfast  an'  sup 
per,  too,  I  reckon,  don't  ye  ?"  said  he.  "  Goin'  to 
stay  here  long?" 

"No,  sir.  I  want  to  find  a  way  to  reach  Acker- 
man's  rancho,"  replied  the  boy,  after  he  had  pulled 
his  fingers  apart  and  straightened  them  out. 

"  0,  goin'  there,  be  ye  ?  All  right.  I  kin  help 
ye  along.  One  of  Ackerman's  herdsmen  is  stop 
ping  with  me  now.''* 

"  Is  it  far  from  here  ?"  asked  Gus. 

"  0,  no ;  just  a  jump — a  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
mebbe.  Ye'll  see  lively  times  thar,  too,  'kase  the 
raiders  come  in  thar  thicker'n  huckelberries  last 
full  moon.  Want  lodgin',  do  ye  ?  Take  the  third 
bench  to  the  left  in  the  bar-room.  0,  Mose !" 
shouted  the  landlord,  so  suddenly  that  Gus  started 
involuntarily. 

In  response  to  this  call,  which  was  uttered  "in  a 
tone  so  loud  that  it  would  have  reached  the  ears  of 
the  person  for  whom  it  was  intended,  if  he  had  been 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  a  young  man,  roughly 
dressed  and  armed  like  his  companions,  left  the 


LIFE   ON    THE    PLAINS.  91 

crowd  on  the  verandah  and  came  into  the  office. 
The  host  glanced  at  the  register,  on  which  Gus  had 
placed  his  name,  and  introduced  the  newcomer  to 
his  guest. 

"Mose,"  said  he,  "this  young  feller  is  the  chap 
yer  lookin'  fur — Gus  Robbins.  Look  out  ye  don't 
lose  him,  fur  he's  so  green  the  cattle'll  eat  him  up 
when  ye  get  him  out  thar  to  the  ranche." 

Gus  did  not  know  who  Mose  was,  but  he  shook 
hands  with  him,  and  was  surprised  to  hear  him  say, 
in  as  good  English  as  he  could  have  used  himself — 
"  We  were  all  green  when  we  first  came  out  here. 
I  have  been  looking  for  you  for  three  days,"  he 
added,  as  he  led  Gus  toward  a  bench  on  one  side  of 
the  room.  "Ned  told  me  he  was  expecting  you, 
and  described  you  so  accurately  that  I  was  certain  I 
knew  who  you  were  the  moment  I  set  eyes  on  you. 
I  am  one  of  Mr.  Ackerman's  herdsmen,  you  know, 
and  have  just  driven  down  five  hundred  head  of 
stock  that  he  sold  the  other  day." 

Gus  had  not  talked  with  his  new  acquaintance 
more  than  five  minutes  before  he  began  to  feel  per 
fectly  at  home  in  his  company.  Mose  was  a  good 
deal  like  the  young  men  he  had  known  in  the 
North.  True,  he  was  bronzed  and  weather-beaten, 


92  GEOHGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OH, 

and  his  clothing  looked  as  though  it  had  seen  the 
hardest  of  service ;  but  the  words  he  used  showed 
him  to  be  an  intelligent  man,  and  he  did  not  shout 
as  though  he  thought  his  listener  was  hard  of  hear 
ing.  When  there  was  a  little  pause  in  the  conver 
sation,  Gus  began  to  seek  information  on  some 
points. 

"  What  is  the  reason  you  men  down  here  all  go 
armed  ?"  he  asked. 

"  0,  we  don't.  The  people  who  live  here  in 
town  never  think  of  such  a  thing.  The  men  out 
there  on  the  porch  don't  belong  here.  They  live 
out  on  the  plains,  two  or  three  hundred  miles  away ; 
and  when  you  have  been  out  there,  and  have  fallen 
in  with  a  war-party  of  Apaches  or  a  band  of  Mexi 
can  raiders,  you  will  know  why  it  is  that  they  go 
armed.  When  they  are  at  home,  they  wear  their 
weapons  all  the  time,  day  and  night,  for  they  never 
know  when  they  are  going  to  be  pounced  upon,  and 
their  stock  driven  off;  and  they  get  so  in  the  habit 
of  keeping  themselves  always  in  readiness  for  a 
fight,  that  they  do  it  even  in  the  settlements." 

"What  do  you  suppose  the  landlord  meant  by 
telling  me  that  I  would  have  lively  times  out  there 
on  the  ranche?" 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  93 

"  0,  the  Indians  and  Mexicans  have  begun  their 
raids  again.  My  employer  lost  about  five  hundred 
head  of  cattle  last  full  moon,  and  his  herdsmen  were 
expecting  another  raid  when  I  came  away.  The 
country  for  fifty  miles  around  Palos  is  crowded  with 
men  who  have  been  obliged  to  leave  their  ranches 
in  the  western  part  of  the  state,  and  come  nearer  to 
the  settlements  for  the  protection  of  their  families 
and  property." 

"  Gracious  !"  exclaimed  Gus.  "  Am  I  so  near 
to  hostile  Indians  ?" 

"You  are  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  place 
where  they  bushwhacked  a  lot  of  herdsmen  no 
longer  ago  than  last  week  !' 

Gus  shuddered,  and  wondered  how  Mose  could 
talk  about  it  without  showing  some  signs  of  alarm. 

"  Do  they  ever  come  near  Mr.  Ackerman's 
rancho  ?"  he  asked. 

"  0,  yes ;  that  is,  the  Mexicans  do.  There's 
hardly  a  stone  in  the  wall  that  hasn't  been  hit  by 
bullets.  They  rode  by  there  a  few  nights  ago,  but 
they  didn't  get  the  stock  they  expected  to  find 
there,  for  it  was  all  out  of  their  reach.  You  see, 
they  cross  the  river  at  some  lonely  spot,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  and  approach  as  near  to  the  settlements 


94  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

as  they  can  without  being  discovered.  Then,  aa 
soon  as  it  grows  dark,  they  dash  over  the  ranches, 
pick  up  all  the  stock  they  can  find,  shoot  anybody, 
man,  woman  or  child,  who  happens  to  fall  in  their 
way,  and  depart  as  quickly  as  they  came.  They 
lose  no  time  in  getting  back  into  their  own  country, 
for  the  herdsmen  always  start  in  pursuit  as  soon  as 
they  can  get  together,  and  if  they  overtake  the 
raiders,  they  are  sure  to  whip  them  and  get  the 
most  of  their  cattle  back.  The  Greasers  are  better 
on  the  run  than  they  are  on  the  fight." 

Mose  talked  to  Gus  in  this  way  for  an  hour  or 
two,  and  during  that  time  the  boy  learned  a  good 
deal  concerning  the  people,  the  country,  the  raiders, 
both  Indians  and  Mexicans,  and  the  life  he  was 
likely  to  lead  as  long  as  he  remained  at  Mr.  Acker- 
man's  rancho.  He  learned  also,  to  his  great  sur 
prise,  that  his  father's  old  book-keeper  and  clerk 
were  not  looked  upon  by  the  natives  of  the  country 
with  any  degree  of  respect ;  but  this  was  a  matter 
upon  which  Mose  had  very  little  to  say,  and  Gua 
did  not  find  out  why  it  was  that  Uncle  John  and 
his  son  were  so  unpopular. 

Before  Gus  had  learned  all  he  wanted  to  know, 
the  landlord  came  up  to  pilot  him  in  to  supper. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  95 

The  tables  were  loaded  with  frontier  delicacies,  and 
although  there  were  no  table-cloths  or  napkins,  and 
the  guests  sat  on  long  benches,  instead  of  chairs, 
and  used  their  fingers  and  formidable-looking 
bowies,  instead  of  the  knives  and  forks  that  had 
been  provided  for  them,  everything  was  as  neat  as 
it  could  be,  and  Gus  made  a  hearty  meal.  Soon 
after  they  arose  from  the  table,  Mose  went  out  to 
attend  to  some  business  for  his  employer,  first  tell 
ing  Gus  that  he  had  better  go  to  bed  at  an  early 
hour,  for  they  would  be  miles  on  their  way  toward 
the  rancho  by  the  time  the  sun  arose  the  next 
morning.  The  boy  was  only  too  glad  to  follow  this 
advice,  for  he  was  almost  tired  out.  He  made  his 
way  to  the  office  and  found  the  landlord  there. 

"Where  did  you  say  my  room  was?"  he  in 
quired. 

"  Room  !"  roared  the  landlord.  "  The  bar-room. 
Best  room  in  the  house,  'kase  it's  the  biggest.  A 
good  many  folk  sleep  thar,  though." 

"  Couldn't  you  give  me  a  room  to  myself?"  asked 
Gus.  "I  can  pay  for  it." 

"  Can't  possibly  crowd  ye  into  ary  bed-room  in 
this  rancho  to  night,"  was  the  reply.  "  They're  all 
full  cl'ar  up  to  the  ceiling.  Every  square  inch  of 


9G  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

my  tables  is  occupied,  an'  some  of  the  boarders  are 
glad  to  hang  up  on  the  hooks  in  the  office.  The 
bench  is  the  best  I  kin  do  for  ye,  an'  ye'll  find  a 
good  bed  thar.  It'll  make  ye  that  sleepy  to  look  at 
it  that  ye'll  want  to  tumble  right  into  it.  Come  on 
an'  I'll  show  it  to  ye  !" 

Gus  followed  his  host  into  the  bar-room,  which 
was  crowded  with  men  and  filled  so  full  of  tobacco 
smoke  that  it  was  a  wonder  how  the  landlord  ever 
found  his  way  through  it,  But  he  did.  He  had  no 
trouble  in  finding  the  bed  Gus  was  to  occupy  that 
night,  and  when  he  showed  it  to  him  the  boy  told 
himself  that  it  was  the  worst  he  had  ever  seen.  It 
was  made  of  a  buffalo  robe  and  two  blankets.  The 
robe  was  spread  over  the  bench  and  one  of  the 
blankets  was  rolled  up  into  a  bundle  to  serve  as  a 
pillow,  while  the  other  lay  on  the  foot  of  the  bed 
and  was  to  be  used  as  a  covering.  There  were  a 
score  of  beds  in  the  room  just  like  it,  and  some  of 
them  were  already  occupied  by  weary  frontiersmen, 
who  were  snoring  lustily  in  spite  of  the  almost 
deafening  racket  made  by  the  wakeful  guests  who 
were  gathered  in  front  of  the  bar.  Gus  glanced 
about  the  dingy  apartment,  thought  of  his  cheerful 
little  room  at  home  and  sighed  deeply. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  97 

"  Father  certainly  knew  what  he  was  talking 
about  when  he  said  that  if  boys  would  spend  as 
much  time  in  thinking  about  the  comforts  and 
pleasures  they  have,  as  they  do  in  worrying  over 
those  they  dont  have,  they  would  be  a  great  deal 
more  contented  than  they  generally  are,"  thought 
Gus,  as  he  placed  his  hat  and  boots  on  the  bench, 
and  lay  down  without  taking  off  any  of  his  clothes. 
"  If  I  had  been  asked  to  sleep  on  a  bed  like  this  at 
home  wouldn't  I  have  raised  a  row  about  it  ?  But 
now  I've  got  to  take  it  or  go  without;  and  if  I 
should  find,  any  fault  with  it,  that  big  landlord 
would  throw  me  out  of  doors  neck  and  heels.  I 
wonder  if  Ned  and  his  father  live  in  this  way  ? 
There  are  hostile  Indians  and  Mexican  cattle-thieves 
where  they  are,  too." 

Gus  slept  soundly  that  night  in  spite  of  his 
unpleasant  surroundings,  but  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  scarcely  closed  his  eyes  when  he  was 
awakened  by  a  hand  laid  on  his  shoulder.  He 
started  up  and  saw  Mose  standing  over  him  with  a 
lighted  lantern  in  his  hand  and  a  heavy  rifle  on  his 
back.  "  Time  to  catch  up  now,"  said  the  latter. 

Gus  slowly  raised  himself  to  a  sitting  posture, 
stretched  his  aching  legs  and  arms,  and  looked  out 
7 


98  GEOKGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

at  the  windows.  Not  a  ray  of  light  came  in 
through  them.  It  was  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  there 
were  Indians  and  Mexicans  somewhere  out  doors, 
too.  If  he  could  have  had  his  own  way  he  would 
have  gone  back  to  his  hard  bed  rather  than  venture 
out  of  the  hotel  with  only  a  single  companion  to 
protect  him. 

"Come  on,"  said  Mose.  "Everything  is  ready. 
I  have  borrowed  a  horse  for  you — a  good  one,  too." 

Mose  seemed  to  be  in  a  hurry,  and  so  the  boy 
began  to  bestir  himself.  When  he  had  put  on  his 
hat  and  boots  he  followed  the  herdsman  to  the  office, 
where  he  settled  his  bill  and  received  his  valise,  and 
thence  to  the  verandah,  beside  which  stood  two 
small,  shaggy  ponies,  saddled  and  bridled.  Mose 
made  the  boy's  valise  fast  behind  one  of  the  saddles, 
and  after  assisting  him  to  mount,  sprang  into  the 
saddle  himself  and  led  the  way  toward  the  prairie. 

The  journey  thus  began  occupied  the  best  part  of 
five  days.  Mose  himself  could  have  accomplished 
it  in  half  the  time,  but  Gus  had  never  been  in  the 
saddle  a  half  a  dozen  times  before  in  his  life,  and 
the  first  day  used  him  up  completely.  If  there  was 
anything  interesting  to  be  seen  during  the  first  part 
of  the  ride  he  never  noticed  it,  and  neither  could  fo 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  99 

recall  a  single  one  of  the  many  stories  of  adven 
ture  with  which  the  obliging  and  kind-hearted  Mose 
tried  to  beguile  the  long  hours  of  their  journey. 

On  the  third  day  the  boy  began  to  get  "  hardened 
to  it  "  in  some  degree,  as  Mose  said,  and  about  that 
time  an  incident  happened  that  drove  all  thoughts 
of  fatigue  out  of  his  mind,  and  made  him  doubly 
anxious  to  reach  the  shelter  of  Uncle  John's  rancho 
at  the  earliest  possible  moment.  By  this  time  our 
two  travellers  were  fairly  in  the  wilderness.  They 
had  left  all  signs  of  civilization  behind  them,  and 
had  ridden  far  without  seeing  a  living  thing ;  con 
sequently  the  sight  of  a  horseman  who  came  gallop 
ing  toward  them,  and  who,  with  a  companion,  was 
watching  a  small  herd  of  cattle  that  were  feeding 
beside  the  trail,  was  a  most  welcome  one.  The 
horseman  came  down  to  intercept  them  and  learn 
the  news.  Mose  told  him  everything  of  interest  he 
had  heard  during  his  stay  in  Palos,  and  the  man  in 
return  told  him  that  the  Apaches  and  Mexicans 
were  making  things  warm  for  settlers  on  the  border. 
There  had  recently  been  four  raids  through  his 
county,  he  said,  during  which  some  of  his  relatives 
had  been  killed  and  wounded,  and  he  had  lost  more 
than  half  his  stock.  In  order  to  save  the  lives  of 


100  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  rest  of  his  family,  and  provide  for  the  safety 
of  his  remaining  cattle,  he  had  tumbled  a  few  neces 
sary  things  into  a  wagon,  abandoned  his  comfortable 
home  and  was  striking  for  the  settlements.  The 
man  talked  about  his  misfortunes  in  much  the  same 
way  that  he  would  have  talked  of  a  profitable  bar 
gain  he  had  just  made,  and  Mose  listened  to  the 
story  without  making  any  remark.  They  were  used 
to  such  things  and  took  them  as  a  matter  of  course ; 
but  Gus  was  not  used  to  them,  and  he  was  frightened 
indeed.  His  hair  seemed  to  rise  up  on  end  while 
he  listened.  He  had  never  before  talked  face  to 
face  with  men  who  had  witnessed  such  thrilling 
scenes  and  taken  part  in  them,  and  it  was  no  wonder 
that  he  wanted  to  turn  around  and  go  back. 

The  man  rode  off  after  he  had  finished  his  story, 
and  while  Gus  was  thinking  about  it  he  and  Mose 
met  the  wagon  of  which  their  visitor  had  spoken. 
It  was  drawn  by  a  span  of  scraggy  mules,  and  was 
loaded  with  women,  children,  cooking  utensils  and 
bedding.  The  occupants  were  ragged  and  dirty, 
and  the  driver  carried  his  left  arm  in  a  sling  and 
wore  a  bandage  about  his  head. 

"  It  was  a  close  call  for  me,"  said  he,  in  response 
to  some  question  that  Mose  addressed  to  him.  u  I 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  101 

got  a  bullet  through  my  shoulder  and  a  rap  over  the 
head  with  a  hatchet.  You  want  to  watch  out,  you 
two  do.  The  reds  are  most  too  thick  about  here  to 
make  travelling  pleasant.  We  saw  the  trail  of  a 
small  party  only  yesterday  morning." 

This  information  and  warning  took  away  every 
atom  of  the  boy's  courage,  and  when  he  and  his 
companion  had  ridden  beyond  earshot  of  the  people 
in  the  wagon,  he  said  suddenly :  "  Don't  let's  go 
any  farther,  Mose." 

The  herdsman  ceased  the  merry  whistling  which 
he  kept  up  all  the  time  when  he  was  not  talking, 
and  looked  at  Gus  in  great  surprise. 

"  Let's  go  back  to  Palos,"  continued  the  latter. 
"We'll  be  safe  there,  and  I  am  afraid  to  go  any 
farther." 

Mose  laughed  long  and  heartily.  "Why,  I'd 
rather  be  out  here  among  the  Indians  than  in  the 
settlements,"  said  he.  "I  wouldn't  live  in  Palos 
for  anything.  There  isn't  elbow-room  enough  there 
for  me.  I  want  to  be  where  I  can  stretch  my  arms 
when  I  feel  like  it  without  hitting  something.  You 
needn't  worry,"  he  added,  glancing  at  the  boy's  pale 
face.  "  You'll  be  just  as  safe  in  Mr.  Ackerman's 
raricho  as  you  would  be  in  Palos." 


102 

"But  perhaps  the  Indians  will  catch  us  before  we 
get  there." 

"  No  they  won't.  We've  just  as  much  right  to 
keep  out  of  their  way  as  they  have  to  hunt  us  up. 
But  they  never  waste  any  time  in  hunting  up 
settlers.  All  they  care  for  is  the  stock ;  and  they 
gobble  it  up  and  get  out  of  the  country  with  it 
as  quickly  as  they  can.  Of  course,  if  a  fellow  gets 
in  their  way  he  stands  a  chance  of  being  popped 
over." 

"  Do  you  all  go  in  the  house  when  the  raiders 
come?" 

"  Bless  you,  no.  Some  of  us  herdsmen  are  fifty 
or  a  hundred  miles  away,  and  we  couldn't  get  back 
there  if  we  tried.  Besides,  it  would  be  poor  man 
agement  to  bring  our  different  herds  all  together  so 
that  the  raiders  could  swoop  down  and  stampede 
them.  -STou  see  we  know  about  what  time  to  expect 
these  raids.  They  are  generally  made  about  the 
time  of  the  full  moon,  and  if  a  herder  is  alert  and 
watchful  he  will  have  his  stock  out  of  the  way." 

u  What  will  he  do  with  it  ?" 

"  He  will  drive  it  farther  back  in  the  country 
than  the  Greasers  care  to  come.  Perhaps  we  had 
better  turn  off  the  trail  a  little  way.  It  runs  through 


LIFE    OX    THE    PLAINS.  103 

an  open  country  here,  and  if  there  are  any  reds 
about,  we  want  to  keep  out  of  their  sight." 

Again  Gus  wondered  how  in  the  world  Mose 
could  talk  about  these  things  in  this  careless,  indif 
ferent  way.  He  seemed  to  care  no  more  for  Indians 
and  Mexicans  than  his  pony  did  for  the  grass  he 
trampled  under  his  feet.  While  Gus  was  trembling 
all  over  with  excitement  and  apprehension  Mose  was 
as  cool  as  a  cucumber,  and  whistled  and  talked  as 
cheerfully  as  he  had  done  ever  since  leaving  Palos. 
He  slept  just  as  soundly  at  night,  too,  relying  on 
his  pony,  which  was  always  picketed  near  the  camp, 
to  give  him  notice  of  the  approach  of  danger. 

"You  must  know,"  he  said  to  Gus,  one  night, 
"  that  horses  and  dogs  are  a  good  deal  like  the  peo 
ple  among  whom  they  live,  and  seem  to  share  in 
their  likes  and  dislikes.  An  Indian's  dog  or  pony 
has  no  more  affection  for  a  white  man  than  his  mas 
ter  has  ;  while  a  white  man's  dog  or  pony  will  raise 
an  awful  row,  if  a  redskin  shows  his  ugly  face  over 
a  hill,  anywhere  within  smelling  or  seeing  distance 
of  him." 

But  Gus  did  not  place  so  much  confidence  in  the 
mustang  as  his  owner  did,  and  he  could  not  sleep. 
He  lay  awake  almost  every  night,  starting  at  the 


104  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OE, 

least  unusual  sound,  and  was  always  gi  ^atly  relieved 
when  morning  came.  It  was  so  gloomy  and  lonely 
on  the  prairie  after  dark,  and  the  wolves  howled  so 
mournfully !  Gus  was  growing  heartily  tired  of 
this  sort  of  life,  and  although  his  companion  assured 
him  that  they  were  making  good  time  now,  and 
rapidly  nearing  their  journey's  end,  he  was  contin 
ually  urging  him  to  go  faster.  How  his  heart 
bounded,  when  Mose  one  day  said,  in  reply  to  this 
request : 

"  There  is  no  need  of  it.  We  are  almost  there. 
When  we  reach  the  top  of  the  next  swell,  you  can 
see  the  rancho." 

Just  then  a  horseman  made  his  appearance  on  the 
summit  of  the  swell  of  which  Mose  had  spoken,  and 
after  gazing  steadily  at  them  for  a  moment,  came 
forward  at  a  rapid  gallop.  There  was  no  need  that 
Gus  should  ask  who  he  was,  for  he  knew  as  soon  as 
he  saw  him  that  it  was  Ned  Ackerman.  He  gal 
loped  on  ahead  to  meet  him,  and  if  one  might  judge 
by  the  way  the  two  boys  greeted  each  other,  they 
were  very  glad  to  meet  again.  They  had  a  multi 
tude  of  questions  to  ask  and  answer,  and  Mose,  see 
ing  that  they  were  too  fully  occupied  with  their  own 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  105 

affairs  to  pay  any  attention  to  him,  rode  on  and  left 
them  alone. 

"  I  declare,  Ned.  you're  a  nobby-looking  fellow  !" 
exclaimed  Gus,  running  his  eye  over  his  friend's 
neat  suit  of  "working  clothes,"  and  glancing  from 
the  stylish,  high-stepping  horse  he  rode  to  his  own 
shaggy,  ill-conditioned  mustang,  "  and  you  ride  as 
though  you  had  lived  in  the  saddle  all  your  life.  I 
see  you  have  a  rifle,  too !  Is  that  the  one  you 
killed  the  grizzly  bears  with  ?  There  goes  Mose 
over  the  swell,  out  of  sight ;  hadn't  we  better  ride 
on  ?  By  the  way,  what  has  become  of  the  Indians  ? 
You  must  have  had  fearful  times  here  since  you 
wrote!" 

"  There  are  no  Indians  at  all  about  here,"  was 
Ned's  reassuring  reply.  "  They  have  bothered  the 
settlers  in  the  next  county  above  a  good  deal,  but 
we  have  seen  nothing  of  them.  It's  the  Mexicans 
who  troubled  us." 

"  Did  you  have  a  fight  with  them  ?" 

" I  should  say  so!"  exclaimed  Ned.  "I've  got 
so  now  that  I  don't  care " 

Ned  suddenly  paused  and  looked  at  Gus.  He 
had  been  on  the  point  of  declaring  that  he  did  not 
care  any  more  for  a  fight  with  raiders  than  he  did 


106  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

for  a  game  of  snow-ball ;  but  after  a  little  reflection 
he  decided  that  he  wouldn't  say  it.  It  would  do 
very  well  to  put  into  a  letter,  if  he  were  going  to 
write  to  Gus,  but  since  the  latter  was  there  on  the 
ground,  and  in  a  situation  to  learn  all  he  wanted  to 
know  by  making  inquiries  of  others,  Ned  thought 
he  had  better,  for  once  in  his  life,  tell  the  truth. 

"You  have  got  so  you  don't  care  for  what?" 
asked  Gus,  when  his  friend  paused. 

"  I  don't  care  to  see  them  any  more,"  replied 
Ned.  "We  had  a  fearful  time  on  the  night  they 
jumped  down  on  us.  They  didn't  find  any  stock 
about  the  rancho  to  drive  off,  and  so  they  shot  into 
the  house  and  tried  to  cut  the  doors  down  with 
axes." 

"  Gracious  !"  exclaimed  Gus.  "  Were  you  in 
the  house  at  the  time  ?" 

"  No,  I  wasn't,  and  that's  just  what  frightened 
me.  They  treed  me  in  a  shed,  and  I  don't  know 
what  they  would  have  done  to  me,  if  they  had  dis 
covered  me.  But  I'll  tell  you  about  that  by-and- 
by.  It  is  my  turn  to  ask  questions  now.  Did  you 
let  your  father  know  that  you  were  coming  down 
here?" 

"No,  I  didn't.     I  didn't  let  anybody  know  it,  but 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  107 

Sam  Holmes  found  it  out,  as  I  told  you  in  my  last 
letter,  and  would  have  made  nie  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  if  I  hadn't  been  too  sharp  for  him.  Where 
can  I  get  a  rig  like  yours,  Ned  ?  Is  it  the 
fashion?" 

"  I  bought  it  in  Palos.  It  is  my  fashion.  I 
won't  dress  as  my  cousin  and  all  the  other  fellows 
about  here  do.  They  are  a  lot  of  boors  !" 
"All  except  your  cousin,  of  course." 
"  No,  I  don't  except  even  him.  He  goes  looking 
like  a  day-laborer,  and  he's  rich,  too.  He  has  six 
thousand  dollars  that  he  made  himself.  More  than 
that,  when  he  becomes  of  age,  he  will  step  into  a 
property  worth  forty  thousand  a  year,  and  father 
and  I  will  have  to  step  out  of  it,  and  I'll  have  to  go 
behind  a  counter  again." 

"  Who  gets  the  property  if  anything  happens  to 
your  cousin  ?" 
"I  do." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"  I  don't  know,  and  neither  does  Zeke,  his  herds 
man.  He  went  away  to  his  camp  a  few  hours  before 
the  Greasers  came  through  here,  and  we  begin  to 
fear  that  he  was  carried  off  by  them,  although  we 
never  heard  of  their  taking  a  prisoner." 


108  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  Well,  if  I  were  in  your  boots  I  should  hope  that 
he  would  never  corne  back  again." 

Ned  looked  down  at  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  and 
made  no  reply  in  words ;  but  his  manner  seemed  to 
say,  at  least  Gus  so  interpreted  it,  that  if  George 
had  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  Mexicans,  and  they  should  decide  to  keep  him  a 
life-long  prisoner,  Ned  would  waste  no  sorrow 
over  it. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  109 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ZEKE'S  LETTER. 

A  LL  the  incidents  described  in  the  preceding 
chapters  happened  before  the  beginning  of 
our  story ;  but  it  was  necessary  that  we  should 
devote  some  time  to  them  in  order  that  the  reader 
might  be  able  to  follow  us  understandingly.  We 
have  only  one  thing  more  to  tell  about,  and  then  the 
thread  of  our  story  will  run  smoothly.  Let  us  go 
back  to  George  Ackerman,  whom  we  left  sitting  on 
the  porch  in  front  of  the  rancho,  mending  his  bridle 
and  talking  earnestly  to  himself. 

"  Uncle  John  and  Ned  act  as  though  they  don't 
want  me  here,"  repeated  George,  "  and  I  have  the 
best  notion  in  the  world  to  pack  up  my  few  things 
and  clear  out.  The  house  doesn't  seem  like  home 
to  me  now.  I  am  a  great  deal  happier  when  I  am 
in  camp  with  Zeke  than  I  am  anywhere  else.  I  have 
put  up  with  a  good  deal,  but  I  shan't  surrender  my 
herd  of  cattle  just  to  please  that  lazy  Ned.  If  he 
wants  to  make  a  beginning  in  stock-raising,  let  him 


110  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

go  to  work,  as  I  did.     I  had  nobody  to  smooth  the 
way  for  me." 

George  was  expecting  a  visit  from  his  cousin,  whu 
had  promised  that  he  would  come  to  him  on  this  par 
ticular  morning  for  an  answer  to  a  proposition  he 
had  made  him  a  short  time  before.  That  proposition 
was,  that  George  should  accept  him  as  a  full  partner 
in  his  business. 

During  the  winter  that  had  just  passed,  Ned  had 
learned,  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  that  it  is  hard 
work  to  do  nothing.  He  could  not  tell  how  he  had 
managed  to  live  through  the  long,  dreary  weeks,  and 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  never  pass 
another  winter  in  that  way.  He  considered  himself 
a  full-fledged  farmer  now,  for  he  had  fifty  acres  of 
wheat  planted ;  but  wheat  was  a  crop  that  required 
no  care  except  for  sowing  and  harvesting,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  year  he  had  to  himself  to  spend  as 
he  pleased.  After  thinking  the  matter  over  he 
decided  to  go  into  partnership  with  his  cousin. 
That  would  be  the  easiest  thing  he  could  do.  As 
he  knew  nothing  about  taking  care  of  cattle,  of 
course  George  would  not  expect  him  to  act  as  herder. 
He  could  stay  in  camp,  when  he  felt  like  it,  come 
home  when  he  pleased,  and  George  and  Zeke  would 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  Ill 

do  all  the  work,  and  Ned  would  share  in  the  profits. 
It  was  a  very  nice  plan,  no  doubt,  but  George  did 
not  seem  to  be  very  enthusiastic  over  it ;  so  Ned  did 
not  press  him  for  an  answer  when  he  made  the  pro 
position,  but  informed  h.im  that  he  would  ask  for  it 
before  George  left  for  his  camp  on  the  plains.  The 
latter  was  getting  ready  to  start  now,  and  looking 
for  Ned  at  the  same  time.  He  came  just  as  George 
finished  his  soliloquy. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "have  you  considered  my  pro 
position  ?" 

"I  have,  and  it  can't  be  done."  was  George's 
reply.  "Two  persons  are  all  that  are  needed  to 
take  care  of  so  small  a  herd  as  mine." 

"  Couldn't  you  discharge  Zeke  and  take  me  in 
his  place  ?" 

"  And  do  all  the  work  myself?"  exclaimed  George 
"No  sir;  I  couldn't." 

"  You  would  rather  keep  him  than  please  your 
cousin,  I  suppose,"  snapped  Ned,  who  was  alwaya 
angry  when  he  could  not  have  his  own  way. 

"I  am  willing  to  do  anything  reasonable," 
replied  George,  "  but  I  can't  do  two  men's  work  for 
the  sake  of  pleasing  you.  Why  don't  you  make 
a  start  for  yourself,  as  I  did  ?" 


112  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"It  would  take  too  long;  and  besides  I  don't 
know  anything  about  cattle." 

"  Yes,  it  will  take  years;  but  you  will  be  learning 
the  business  all  the  while,  and  by  the  time  you  have 
a  herd  of  your  own  you  will  know  how  to  take  care 
of  it.  I  tell  you  there's  something  back  of  this,'* 
said  George,  to  himself,  as  Ned  jumped  up  and 
walked  into  the  house,  shaking  his  head  and  mutter 
ing  to  himself.  "His  offer  to  go  into  partnership 
with  me  is  only  a  blind.  He  has  another  object  in 
view,  and  I  wish  I  knew  what  it  is." 

"  There's  only  one  thing  about  this  business,  and 
you  can  bet  high  on  that,  my  fine  lad,"  thought 
Ned,  as  he  disappeared  in  the  house.  "  You  shan't 
treat  me  with  contempt  if  everybody  else  does.  I'll 
show  you  who  is  boss  here." 

George  was  certain  that  he  had  not  heard  the 
last  of  the  matter,  and  in  this  he  was  not  mistaken. 
When  Ned  had  been  gone  about  five  minutes  Uncle 
Johr.  came  out,  and  before  he  had  said  a  dozen 
words  George  knew  just  what  he  had  to  expect. 

"  I  have  concluded  to  reduce  expenses  about 
eighty  dollars  a  month  by  discharging  two  herds 
men,"  said  Uncle  John. 

"All    right,   sir,"    replied     George,    cheerfully 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  113 

eighty  dollars  are  worth  saving ;  but  do  you  think 
that  those  who  are  left  will  be  able  to  do  the  work?" 

"  0,  yes.  Of  course  I  intend  that  the  places  :>f 
those  I  discharge  shall  be  supplied  by  others." 

"  Then  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  save  any 
thing.  Besides,  what's  the  use  of  sending  away 
good  men  and  hiring  others  whom  you  don't  know 
anything  about  ?" 

"  I  don't  intend  to  hire  any  others.  I  want  you 
and  Zeke  to  take  their  places." 

"  Oh  !  I  thought  that  was  what  you  were  trying 
to  get  at,"  said  George,  to  himself.  "Ned  means 
to  rule  or  ruin,  but  he  shall  do  neither.  Zeke  and  I 
can't  take  their  places,"  he  said,  aloud.  "  We  have 
all  we  can  do  now." 

"I  will  tell  you  how  I  intend  to  arrange  matters,"' 
said  Uncle  John,  and  George  thought  he  looked  and 
acted  as  though  he  did  not  much  like  the  business 
he  had  set  out  to  perform.  "  I  am  going  to  bring 
your  herd  in  and  distribute  it  among  the  others. 
You  two  can  take  care  of  more  than  three  hundred 
cattle." 

"  But  I  don't  want  my  herd  broken  up.    I  earned 
it  without  help ;  it  belongs  to  me  individually,  and 
I  am  going  to  keep  it.     Zeke  belongs  to  me,  too ; 
8 


114  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

and  while  he  is  in  my  employ  he  shan't  herd  cattle 
for  anybody  else." 

"Why,  George!"  exclaimed  Uncle  John,  who 
seemed  to  be  very  much  astonished  at  the  emphasis 
the  boy  threw  into  his  words.  "  I  never  knew  you 
to  be  so  disobedient  before." 

"  You  will  find  me  so  every  time  you  try  to 
trample  on  me,"  declared  George,  boldly.  "I  don't 
know  why  you  should  want  to  take  my  herd  away 
from  me,  but  I  do  know  there's  not  a  man  on  the 
place  who  would  help  you  do  it.  Ah!  I  forgot 
you,"  thought  George,  as  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
Mexican  cook,  who  just  then  crossed  the  yard,  walk 
ing  slowly  and  carrying  his  head  on  one  side  as  if 
he  were  trying  to  overhear  what  passed  between 
•  Uncle  John  and  his  nephew.  "I  believe  that  you 
are  mean  enough  to  do  anything,  Master  Philip  I" 

"I  intend  that  you  shall  obey  me,"  replied  Uncle 
John,  "and  if  you  will  not  do  it  willingly,  you 
must  do  it  unwillingly.  I  shall  discharge  Zeke  at 
once." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  that,"  thought 
George,  as  Uncle  John  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  into  the  house,  "  for  you  don't  pay  him  his 
wages.  I  don't  see  how  you  are  going  to  take  my 


LIFE   ON   TIIE    PLAINS.  115 

cattle  away  from  me  either,  for  the  first  thing  will 
be  to  find  them,  and  what  would  Zeke  and  I  be 
doing  while  you  were  trying  to  drive  them  away  ? 
I  should  call  it  robbery,  and  I  wouldn't  submit 
to  it." 

The  emphatic  manner  in  which  the  boy  nodded 
his  head  as  he  said  this,  and  the  look  of  determina 
tion  that  settled  on  his  face  would  have  surprised 
Uncle  John  if  he  could  have  seen  them.  The  boy 
was  resolved  to  hold  fast  to  his  property  and  to 
stubbornly  resist  any  attempt  that  might  be  made  to 
deprive  him  of  it.  It  would  be  an  act  of  gross 
injustice  to  take  his  earnings  away  from  him,  and 
George  found  it  hard  to  believe  that  his  uncle  could 
think  seriously  of  such  a  thing. 

"  If  he  tries  it,  it  will  only  be  in  keeping  with 
other  mean  things  he  has  done  since  he  has  been 
here,"  said  George.  "  He  and  Ned  are  coming 
down  on  me  harder  and  harder  every  month,  and 
I  should  like  to  know  what  they  mean  by  it." 

George  seemed  to  put  a  little  more  energy  into 
his  work  as  he  turned  these  matters  over  in  his 
mind,  and  when  at  last  the  bridle,  was  finished  he 
threw  it  upon  the  porch,  put  the  awl  and  what  was 
left  of  the  waxed-end  carefully  away  in  a  box  that 


116  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

lay  beside  him  on  the  ground,  and  taking  the  box  in 
his  hand  started  toward  a  little  shed  which  stood  a 
short  distance  in  the  rear  of  the  house. 

As  he  drew  near  to  the  shed,  two  animals  he  had 
left  there  a  little  while  before  greeted  him,  each 
after  his  own  fashion.  One  was  Bonaparte  (called 
Bony,  for  short)  George's  pack  mule,  and  the  other 
was  Hanger,  his  favorite  riding  nag.  These  animals, 
which  were  among  the  best  of  their  kind,  had  been 
the  boy's  almost  constant  companions,  ever  since  he 
returned  from  school  and  settled  down  to  the  busi 
ness  of  herding  cattle.  Bony  was  small  and  clean 
limbed,  sleek  as  a  mole  and  treacherous  as  mules 
generally  are.  He  took  unbounded  delight  in 
knocking  over  everything  and  everybody  that  came 
within  reach  of  his  hind  feet,  and  when  he  felt  in 
the  humor  for  doing  it,  he  could  kick  himself  out 
from  under  the  pack-saddle  with  the  greatest  ease. 
Ranger,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  know  how  to 
kick  or  bite,  but  he  understood  the  business  of 
cattle-herding,  and  would  answer  his  master's 
whistle  as  promptly  as  a  well-trained  dog.  Nothing 
which  his  strength  or  agility  could  overcome  would 
keep  him  from  George's  side  when  he  heard  that 
whistle.  He  would  jump  a  fence  or  swim  a  river  to 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  117 

obey  it.  When  in  camp  George  never  confined  the 
animal  with  a  lasso  unless  it  was  near  the  full  of 
the  moon  and  raids  were  expected  from  the  Mexi 
cans  or  Indians,  for  Ranger  never  thought  cf 
straying  away.  He  was  as  black  as  midnight,  very 
fleet  and  enduring,  and  George  had  almost  as  much 
affection  for  him  as  he  would  have  had  for  a  brother, 
for  he  was  the  last  gift  he  had  ever  received  from 
his  father.  The  animals  seemed  to  be  ready  for  a 
journey, for  Bony  carried  a  loaded  pack-saddle  on 
his  back,  and  Ranger  was  saddled  but  not  bridled. 

Upon  reaching  the  shed  George  whistled  the  mule 
and  led  him  toward  the  house,  and  Ranger,  without 
waiting  for  the  command,  followed  at  his  heels.  He 
stopped  at  the  porch,  and  after  fastening  the  mule's 
halter  to  the  horn  of  the  saddle  that  Ranger  wore, 
he  disappeared  in  the  house.  When  he  came  out 
again  he  carried  in  his  hands  a  bundle,  a  rifle  and  a 
small  leather  haversack.  The  bundle  contained  his 
overcoat,  gloves,  rubber-poncho  and  blankets ;  and 
in  the  haversack  he  carried  the  ammunition  for  his 
rifle — a  new  model  Winchester,  holding  in  its  maga 
zine  sixteen  cartridges,  all  of  which  could  be  dis 
charged  in  as  many  seconds.  He  slung  the  rifle 
and  haversack  over  his  shoulders,  tied  the  bundle 


118  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

behind  his  saddle' and  was  just  slipping  the  mended 
bridle  over  his  horse's  head  when  Ned  came  out. 

"Well,  you  are  off  for  your  last  trip,  are  you?" 
he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  I  am  off  for  camp  again,  but  not  for  the 
last  time,  I  hope,"  returned  George,  although  he 
felt  like  making  a  very  different  answer.  "  One 
must  do  something  to  earn  his  bread  and  butter,  you 
know,  and  life  in  camp  suits  me  better  than  staying 
in  the  house  doing  nothing." 

"What  have  you  got  in  that  pack-saddle?"  asked 
Ned. 

"  Provisions." 

"You  needn't  have  troubled  yourself  to  lay  in 
such  a  supply,  for  you  won't  need  them  all." 

"Won't  I?     Why  not?" 

Ned  made  no  reply  in  words.  He  only  smiled 
and  shook  his  head  as  if  he  meant  to  convey  the 
impression  that  he  could  tell  something  wonderful 
if  he  felt  like  it,  and  George,  who  was  by  this  time 
in  the  saddle,  touched  his  horse  with  his  spurs  and 
galloped  away.  He  did  not  say  anything  more,  for 
he  was  angry  and  afraid  that  he  might  utter  some 
words  that  he  would  be  sorry  for.  He  thought 
he  knew  what  his  cousin  meant  by  his  nods  and  his 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  119 

smiles,  and  told  himself  that  Ned  was  destined  to 
be  as  badly  disappointed  as  Uncle  John  was  if  he 
imagined  that  he  and  Zeke  would  surrender  their 
herd  of  cattle  to  him  any  sooner  than  they  would  to 
a  band  of  raiding  Mexicans.  It  made  George  almost 
beside  himself  to  dwell  upon  this  subject,  so  he  dis 
missed  it  altogether  from  his  mind,  and  tried  to 
think  about  pleasanter  things. 

That  day's  ride  was  a  hard  one,  and  George,  who 
was  accustomed  to  such  things,  grew  tired  long 
before  it  was  ended.  The  course  he  followed  led 
him  through  the  wildest  portion  of  the  country 
where  farms  and  ranches  were  few  and  far  between. 
Now  and  then  he  saw  a  horseman  or  two  who  would 
gallop  to  meet  him,  as  they  met  every  trader,  and 
ask  for  the  news ;  but  George  had  little  to  tell  that 
was  of  interest,  and  these  interviewers  did  not  long 
delay  him.  He  made  a  short  halt  for  dinner  and  in 
the  afternoon  travelled  with  increased  speed,  reach 
ing  the  grove,  toward  which  he  had  all  the  day  been 
directing  his  course,  and  where  he  intended  to  spend 
the  night,  just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  out  of  sight 
behind  the  distant  swells. 

It  was  in  this  grove  that  George  had  expected  to 
find  Zeke,  who,  when  his  employer  went  after  sup- 


120  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

plies,  always  brought  his  cattle  as  close  to  the  settle 
ments  as  he  could  find  pasture  for  them,  and  so 
save  time.  George  found  the  camp  the  herdsman 
had  occupied  while  the  cattle  were  feeding  in  the 
vicinity,  but  it  was  deserted,  and  had  been  for  three 
or  four  days  ;  consequently  Zeke  and  his  herd  must 
be  a  long  way  from  there,  and  George  had  nothing 
to  do  but  make  himself  comfortable  for  the  night 
and  start  in  pursuit  the  next  morning. 

As  soon  as  the  boy  had  relieved  Ranger  of  his 
saddle  and  Bony  of  the  heavy  load  he  had  so 
patiently  carried  all  the  day,  he  turned  the  animals 
loose  to  graze,  and  started  a  fire  in  front  of  the 
dilapidated  brush  shantee  Zeke  had  recently  occu 
pied.  Upon  the  fire  were  placed  a  camp-kettle  and 
frying-pan,  one  filled  with  water  taken  from  the 
brook  that  ran  close  by,  and  the  other  with  slices  of 
bacon.  Supper  was  fairly  under  way  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  while  he  was  waiting  for  the  fire  to 
cook  it,  George  busied  himself  in  repairing  the 
cabin. 

It  was  while  he  was  thus  engaged  that  he  acci 
dentally  discovered  something  for  which  he  had  been 
looking  ever  since  he  reached  the  grove,  and  that 
was  a  letter  from  Zeke.  It  was  written  on  a  piece 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  121 

of  bark  and  fastened  to  a  tree  in  plain  sight,  but 
somehow  George  had  managed  to  overlook  it.  The 
letter  was  made  up  of  rough  characters  which  had 
been  rudely  traced  on  the  bark  by  the  point  of  the 
herdsman's  hunting-knife.  The  first  was  an  Indian's 
arrow — that  was  drawn  so  plainly  that  anybody 
could  have  told  what  it  was — and  it  pointed  toward 
something  that  looked  like  a  whale  with  an  unusually 
large  head  which  was  surmounted  by  a  pair  of  horns. 
It  was  certainly  intended  to  represent  a  fish  with 
horns  and  the  only  one  of  the  species  in  that 
country  that  George  knew  anything  about  was  a 
catfish. 

The  next  two  characters  might  have  been  taken 
for  almost  anything,  except  the  objects  that  George 
knew  they  were  intended  to  represent,  namely,  a 
couple  of  water-falls.  The  next  looked  like  a  front 
view  of  a  man's  face,  but  one  side  of  it  was  fiat, 
while  the  other  was  round.  This  was  meant  for  the 
moon  in  its  first  quarter.  Under  the  moon  were 
four  short,  straight  lines,  headed  by  a  cross  like  the 
sign  of  multiplication ;  and  these  were  intended  to 
represent  the  days  of  the  week,  the  cross  standing 
for  Sunday. 

Zeke,  who  had  lived  in  the  mountains  and  on  the 


122  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

prairie  all  his  life,  did  not  know  one  letter  from 
another,  but  he  had  left  behind  him  a  communica 
tion  that  George  read  as  easily  as  you  can  read  this 
printed  page.  If  he  had  given  it  a  free  translation, 
it  would  have  read  something  like  this : 

"I  have  gone  toward  Catfish  Falls.  It  is  near' 
the  time  of  the  full  moon.  I  left  camp  on  Thurs- 
day." 

After  writing  this  much,  Zeke  did  just  as  many 
a  school-boy  does — he  added  a  postscript,  containing 
the  only  item  of  information  that  was  really  worth 
knowing.  It  made  George  open  his  eyes,  too.  It 
consisted  of  drawings  of  a  pair  of  moccasins,  a  fire 
•with  a  thick  smoke  arising  from  it,  and  several 
horses'  feet.  It  meant  that  there  were  Indians  in 
the  neighborhood ;  that  they  were  hostile  Apaches 
(George  knew  that  by  the  shape  of  the  moccasins), 
and  that  Zeke  had  seen  the  smoke  of  their  fires  and 
the  tracks  made  by  their  horses. 

George,  who  was  accustomed  to  sudden  surprises 
and  always  expecting  them,  did  not  seem  to  be  at 
all  disturbed  by  this  very  unpleasant  piece  of  news. 
Although  he  had  never  had  any  experience  with 
raiders,  he  was  brave  and  self-reliant,  knew  just 


LIFE    ON  THE   PLAINS.  123 

what  to  do  in  any  emergency  that  might  arise  while 
he  was  on  the  plains,  and  felt  abundantly  able  to 
take  care  of  himself.  He  ran  his  eye  over  the 
letter  and  postscript  once  more,  to  make  sure  that 
he  had  read  them  aright,  and  then  walked  back  to 
his  fire  and  sat  down.  He  did  not  spend  any  more 
time  in  repairing  the  cabin,  for  he  knew  now  that 
he  should  not  occupy  it  that  night.  "When  his  sup 
per  was  cooked,  he  ate  it  with  great  deliberation ; 
after  which  he  put  out  his  fire  and  returned  to  the 
pack-saddle  all  the  articles  he  had  taken  out  of  it. 
There  was  a  goodly  supply  of  bacon  and  coffee  left, 
and  this  George  intended  should  serve  him  for  his 
next  morning's  breakfast. 

"  I  may  be  out  of  reach  of  wood  and  water  by  the 
time  I  grow  hungry,"  thought  he,  as  he  buckled  the 
pack-saddle  and  made  it  ready  for  Bony's  back.  "I 
can't  stop  here  to-night,  for  the  timber  is  by  no 
means  a  safe  place  to  camp  when  there  are  Indians 
about.  I  wish  Zeke  had  told  me  which  way  they 
were  going  when  he  saw  them,  for  I  don't  want  to 
run  right  in  among  them  before  I  know- it !" 

As  soon  as  Bony's  burden  was  adjusted  and 
Ranger  had  been  saddled  and  bridled,  George 
mounted  and  rode  rapidly  away  from  the  grove, 


124  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

holding  a  straight  course  for  Catfish  Falls,  but 
making  no  effort  to  find  Zeke's  trail.  In  fact,  he 
did  not  want  to  find  it,  and  if  he  had  stumbled  upon 
it  accidentally,  he  would  have  ridden  away  from  it 
with  all  haste.  The  vicinity  of  that  trail  was  as 
dangerous  a  place  as  the  grove  he  had  just  left.  A 
band  of  raiders  might  strike  it  at  any  time,  and  fol 
low  it  up  for  the  purpose  of  capturing  the  herd,  and 
George,  if  he  chanced  to  be  in  the  way,  would  run 
the  risk  of  being  captured,  too. 

The  boy  rode  rapidly  as  long  as  he  could  distin 
guish  objects  about  him,  and  when  the  darkness  had 
shut  him  out  from  the  view  of  any  skulking  Indian 
or  Mexican,  who  might  chance  to  be  watching  him 
from  a  distance,  he  slackened  his  pace  and  turned 
off  at  right  angles  with  the  course  he  had  been  pur 
suing.  He  rode  about  a  mile  in  this  direction,  and 
then  went  into  camp,  staking  out  his  horse  and 
mule,  and  lying  down  to  sleep,  with  his  poncho  for 
a  bed,  his  saddle  for  a  pillow  and  his  hair  lasso  for  a 
protection  from  the  visitors  of  which  his  cousin  Ned 
stood  so  much  in  fear,  the  rattlers.  He  slept 
soundly,  too,  relying  upon  Ranger  and  Bony  to 
arouse  him,  in  case  any  one  approached  his  camp, 
and  awoke  at  the  first  peep,  of  day,  refreshed  and 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  125 

invigorated.  A  couple  of  hard  biscuit,  added  to  the 
coffee  and  bacon  he  had  saved  from  his  last  night's 
supper,  furnished  him  with  as  good  a  breakfast  as 
he  cared  for,  and  when  it  had  been  disposed  of, 
George  was  ready  to  begin  his  day's  journey. 

The  boy  spent  one  more  night  alone  on  the  prai 
rie,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  found 
Zeke's  camp.  As  he  emerged  from  a  belt  of  post- 
oaks,  through  which  he  had  been  riding  for  the  last 
hour,  he  saw  a  small  herd  of  cattle  feeding  on  the 
prairie,  and  was  welcomed  by  a  shrill  neigh,  which 
came  from  the  direction  of  a  fire  that  was  burning 
in  the  edge  of  the  timber  a  short  distance  away. 
Bony  answered  the  greeting  with  a  long-drawn 
bray,  and  Ranger,  breaking  into  a  gallop,  carried 
his  rider  into  the  camp,  where  he  was  met  by  a  tall, 
broad-shouldered  man,  who  arose  from  his  blanket 
as  he  approached.  This  was  Zeke.  What  his 
other  name  was  George  did  not  know;  in  fact,  he 
did  not  believe  that  Zeke  knew  it  himself. 

If  a  stranger  had  judged  Zeke  by  his  appearance, 
he  would  have  put  him  down  as  anything  but  an 
agreeable  or  safe  companion.  He  was  rough  and 
uncouth  in  person  and  manners,  and  as  bronzed 
and  weather-beaten  as  any  old  salt.  His  hair, 


126  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR. 

which  fell  down  upon  his  shoulders,  and  the  luxu 
riant  whiskers  and  mustache  that  almost  concealed 
his  face,  were  as  white  as  snow,  and  bore  evidence 
to  the  fact  that  he  carried  the  weight  of  many  years 
on  his  shoulders ;  but  his  form  was  as  erect  as  an 
Indian's,  and  his  step  as  firm  and  quick  as  it  had 
been  in  the  days  of  his  youth.  He  looked  like  one 
possessed  of  immense  physical  power,  as  indeed  he 
was ;  and  those  who  had  seen  him  in  moments  of 
danger,  knew  that  he  had  the  courage  to  back  up 
his  strength.  He  was  as  faithful  as  a  man  could 
be,  and  ready  to  do  and  dare  anything  in  defence 
of  his  young  employer.  George  had  selected  him 
from  among  the  numerous  herdsmen  employed  on 
his  father's  ranche,  and  they  had  been  almost  insep 
arable  companions  ever  since. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Zeke,"  said  the  boy,  as 
he  swung  himself  out  of  the  saddle,  and  placed  his 
hand  in  the  broad  palm  that  was  extended  toward 
him,  "  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  have  felt  afraid  ever 
since  I  found  your  letter  down  there  in  the  grove. 
I  can't  help  believing  that  something  is  going  to 
happen.  Have  you  seen  anything  more  of  the 
Indians?" 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  127 

" No,"  replied  Zeke.  "They  went  t'wards  the 
settlements." 

"  That's  bad  for  the  settlers,  but  good  for  us. 
We're  safe,"  said  George,  drawing  a  long  breath. 

"Not  by  no  means,  we  hain't  safe.  Them 
Apaches  must  corae  back,  mustn't  they  ?" 

George  hadn't  thought  of  that.  Of  course,  the 
Indians  must  come  back,  if  they  intended  to  return 
to  their  own  country,  and  George  did  not  like  to 
think  of  what  would  happen,  if  he  and  Zeke  and 
their  herd  of  cattle  should  chance  to  cross  their 
path.  They  did  cross  the  path  of  a  band  of  raiders 
— some  who  were  looking  for  them  and  knew  just 
where  to  find  them, — and  before  he  was  many  days 
older,  George  was  the  hero  of  one  or  two  startling 
adventures,  and  also  gained  some  items  of  informa 
tion,  from  various  sources,  that  almost  overwhelmed 
him  with  wonder  and  amazement ! 


128 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

NED'S  NEW  HORSE. 

TVTOW,  I'll  just  tell  you  what's  a  fact,  father," 
said  Ned,  who  stood  on  the  porch  with  Uncle 
John,  watching  George  as  he  galloped  away,  "if 
you  are  going  to  do  anything  you  must  come  out 
and  make  a  square  stand.  You  don't  want  George 
here  any  more  than  I  do." 

"  Be  careful,  Ned,"  said  Uncle  John,  in  a  sup 
pressed  whisper,  looking  anxiously  around.  "  Some 
one  might  hear  you." 

"  I  don't  care  who  hears  me.  I  don't  see  any 
sense  in  being  so  sly.  George  will  hang  about  here 
just  as  long  as  he  has  that  herd  of  cattle  to  take 
care  of.  Take  that  away  from  him  and  perhaps  he 
will  clear  out." 

"But  I  don't  know  how  to  do  it,"  said  Uncle 
John. 

"  Why,  it  is  easy  enough.  Send  some  men  out 
there  with  orders  to  drive  the  herd  in." 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  129 

"  That  would  only  bring  on  a  fight ;  for  George 
and  Zeke  would  resist.  Besides,  you  must  remember 
that  all  the  herdsmen  on  the  place  are  friendly  to 
George,  and  I  don't  believe  they  would  obey  such 
an  order." 

"  Then  discharge  them  and  hire  others  who  will 
do  as  they  are  told,"  exclaimed  Ned,  impatiently. 
u  What's  the  use  of  your  trying  to  run  the  ranche 
if  you  can't  do  as  you  please  ?" 

"  But  there's  one  thing  you  don't  seem  to  under 
stand.  George  has  rights " 

"Don't  he  wish  he  may  get  them,  though  ?"  inter 
rupted  Ned,  snapping  his  fingers  in  the  air. 

"  He  can  get  them.  If  I  go  too  far,  he  can 
appeal  to  the  courts,  and  have  me  put  out  and  a  new 
guardian  of  his  own  choosing  appointed  in  my 
place." 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Ned,  opening  his  eyes  in 
great  amazement.  "Does  George  know  that?" 

"I  don't  know  whether  he  does  or  not;  but/ 
know  it :  and  I  know,  too,  that  there  are  plenty  in 
the  neighborhood  who  will  tell  him  of  it;  so  you 
see  I  must  be  careful  and  not  let  him  get  a  good 
hold  on  me.  You  wouldn't  like  to  go  back  to 

Foxboro'  and  work  for  your  bread  and  clothes,  after 
9 


.130  GEOKGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

living  at  your  case,  aa  you  have  ever  since  you  have 
been  here." 

"No,  I  wouldn't;  and  what's  more,  I  never  will 
do  it,"  replied  Ned,  walking  up  and  down  the  porch 
with  his  hands  behind  his  back.  "  111  tell  you 
what  to  do,"  he  added,  suddenly,  while  a  smile  of 
triumph  lighted  up  his  face,  "  take  his  money  away 
from  him.  He  keeps  a  lot  of  it  in  a  box  in  his 
room.  I  saw  it  there." 

"  What  good  will  that  do  ?" 

"  Why,  how  is  he  going  to  keep  a  herdsman 
unless  he  has  money  to  pay  him  ?" 

"  0,  that  would  never  do.  He'd  raise  an  awful 
row  about  it,  and  then  go  off  and  sell  some  of  his 
cattle  and  get  more  money." 

"  That's  so,"  replied  Ned,  the  triumphant  smile 
disappearing  as  quickly  as  it  had  come.  "  He's  got 
luck  on  his  side,  hasn't  he  ?  I  wish  the  raiders 
would  jump  down  on  him  and  take  the  last  steer 
he's  got.  I'd  be  glad  to  see  some  of  them  long 
enough  to  tell  them  where  to  find  him.  I'd  tell 
them  to  catch  George  too  and  hold  fast  to  him," 
added  Ned,  under  his  breath,  as  his  father  turned 
and  walked  into  the  house.  "  I  never  can  carry  out 
my  scheme  while  he  owns  those  cattle ;  I  can  see 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  131 

that  very  plainly.  If  I  could  only  make  him  lose 
them  some  way,  I  should  have  things  just  as  I  want 
them.  But  how  can  I  do  it  ?  I  must  keep  my  mind 
on  it  until  I  hit  upon  something." 

This  conversation  and  Ned's  soliloquy  will  serve 
to  show  that  certain  plans  calculated  to  work  serious 
injury  to  the  young  herdsman  had  been  laid  by  the 
new  occupants  of  the  ranche,  and  that  one  of  them, 
at  least,  was  ready  to  resort  to  desperate  measures 
in  order  to  carry  those  plans  into  execution.  Ned 
had  set  himself  deliberately  to  work  to  drive  his 
cousin  away  from  his  home.  One  would  suppose 
that  if  he  had  any  affection  for  him,  or  had  possessed 
the  least  spark  of  honor,  he  would  have  been  above 
such  a  thing ;  but  the  truth  was,  Ned  was  not  above 
doing  anything  that  he  thought  would  advance  his 
own  interests.  He  never  forgot  that  clause  in  his 
uncle's  will,  which  provided  that  in  a  certain  contin 
gency  all  the  immense  property,  of  which  his  father 
now  had  control,  was  to  fall  to  himself.  It  was  the 
last  thought  he  dwelt  upon  at  night  when  he  went 
to  bed  and  the  first  that  passed  through  his  mind 
when  he  awoke  in  the  morning.  George  was  very 
much  in  the  way  there.  Ned  thought  so,  and  he 
knew  that  his  father  thought  so,  too.  They  could 


132  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

not  do  as  they  pleased  while  he  was  about,  for 
George  knew  everything  that  was  going  on  in  the 
ranche.  He  knew  just  what  the  expenses  amounted 
to  every  month,  could  tell  how  many  cattle  had  been 
sold,  the  price  they  brought,  and  how  much  money 
his  uncle  ought  to  have  put  into  the  bank. 

Uncle  John  did  not  like  to  be  watched  so  closely, 
and  Ned  didn't  like  it  either,  for  the  reason  that  his 
father  could  not  give  him  as  much  money  as  he 
wanted.  Ned  would  have  cut  a  fine  dash  if  he  had 
possessed  the  necessary  funds,  and  Uncle  John  would 
have  been  only  too  glad  to  furnish  him  with  all  the 
cash  he  demanded  if  he  could  have  done  so  without 
George's  knowledge.  All  Uncle  John  wanted  was 
to  fill  his  pockets  and  Ned's;  and  the  latter,  to 
assist  him  in  accomplishing  his  object,  set  himself  to 
work  to  make  the  house  so  unpleasant  for  George 
that  he  would  not  stay  there.  He  had  determined 
upon  this  before  he  had  been  two  days  at  the 
ranche,  and  he  had  succeeded  beyond  his  expep- 
tations.  George  seemed  to  think  a  great  deal  more 
of  Zeke's  company  than  he  did  of  Uncle  John's  and 
Ned's,  and  often  said  that  he  preferred  a  blanket  at 
night  and  a  life  in  the  saddle  to  his  room  at  home 
and  the  lonely  existence  he  led  while  he  was  there. 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  133 

He  spent  more  than  half  his  time  in  camp,  but 
came  home  whenever  he  wanted  supplies  for  himself 
and  herdsman,  and  spent  three  or  four  days  in 
riding  about  taking  note  of  things.  Ned  always 
dreaded  these  visits,  and  wished  he  could  hit  upon 
some  plan  to  put  a  stop  to  them. 

"  I  thought  I  had  hit  upon  something,"  said  Ned, 
tc  himself,  as  he  jumped  down  the  steps  and  walked 
toward  the  corral,  which  was  the  name  given  to  the 
enclosure  in  which  the  riding-horses  belonging  to 
the  ranche  were  kept.  "  And  I  believe  yet  that  if 
father  would  only  take  his  herd  away  from  him  he 
would  be  too  discouraged  to  start  another.  He 
would  have  to  do  something,  of  course — George 
isn't  the  one  to  remain  long  idle — and  as  there  is  no 
other  business  he  can  go  into  in  this  country,  per 
haps  he  would  go  off  somewhere  to  seek  his  fortune 
and  leave  us  a  clear  field.  I  wish  Gus  Robbins  was 
here  now.  Two  heads  are  better  than  one,  and  per 
haps  he  could  suggest  something." 

Ned  was  looking  for  his  friend  Gus  every  day, 
although  how  the  latter  was  going  to  find  his  way 
over  the  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  wilderness  that 
lay  between  Palos,  which  was  the  end  of  the  stage 
route,  and  the  rancho,  Ned  didn't  know.  If  Gus 


134:  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

could  have  told  him  when  he  expected  to  reach 
Palos,  the  case  would  have  been  different.  Ned 
could  have  sent  one  of  the  herdsmen  down  there  to 
meet  him  and  show  him  the  way  home ;  but,  as  it 
was,  Gus  would  have  to  take  his  chances.  He 
would  have  to  wait  at  Palos  until  he  fell  in  with 
some  of  the  neighbors  who  might  happen  to  go 
there  on  business,  as  some  of  them  did  nearly  every 
month.  But  a  month  was  a  long  time  to  wait. 
He  wished  his  friend  was  with  him  now,  for  he  was 
growing  more  lonely  every  day.  He  ought  to  be 
on  the  way  by  this  time,  Ned  often  told  himself, 
and  of  late  he  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of  riding 
to  the  top  of  a  high  swell  about  five  miles  from  the 
rancho,  and  spending  the  most  of  the  day  there 
waiting  for  Gus.  When  he  came  he  would  pass 
along  the  trail  leading  over  the  top  of  that  swell, 
and  Ned  could  see  him  while  he  was  yet  a  long  dis 
tance  away. 

When  Ned  was  mounted  and  fully  equipped  for  a 
gallop,  a  stranger  would  have  taken  him  for  a  mas- 
querader  on  his  way  to  a  ball.  If  he  had  sported  a 
big  mustache  and  had  a  few  more  years  on  his 
shoulders,  he  might  have  easily  passed  for  the  leader 
of  a  band  of  brigands.  He  always  wore  a  Mexi- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  135 

can  sombrero,  buckskin  coat,  fawnskin  vest,  corduroy 
trowsers,  and  high  top-boots,  the  heels  of  which 
were  armed  with  huge  silver-plated  spurs.  These 
was  intended  for  ornament  and  not  for  use,  for  Ned 
could  not  have  been  hired  to  touch  his  horse  with 
them.  He  had  tried  it  once.  The  animal  was  as 
steady  an  old  cob  as  Uncle  John  could  find  in  the 
settlement,  but  he  did  not  like  spurs,  and  on  one 
occasion  he  had  convinced  his  rider  of  the  fact  by 
throwing  him  head  over  heels  into  a  ditch.  That 
was  when  Ned  first  purchased  him,  and  before  he 
knew  anything  about  riding  on  horseback.  He  was 
growing  somewhat  accustomed  to  the  saddle  now, 
and  was  beginning  to  look  about  him  for  a  better 
mount.  There  were  plenty  of  horses  on  the  ranche 
— fleet,  hardy  animals  they  were,  too — but  Ned 
wanted  a  thorough-bred,  such  as  some  of  the  settlers 
were  purchasing  in  Kentucky. 

Besides  his  spurs  Ned  carried  three  other  orna 
ments — an  ivory-handled  riding-whip,  a  breech-load 
ing  rifle  and  a  silver-mounted  hunting-knife.  He 
expected  with  that  rifle  to  make  sad  havoc  among 
the  big  game  which  was  so  abundant  in  some  parts 
of  Texas,  but  thus  far  he  had  not  shot  a  single  thing 
with  it.  He  knew  nothing  about  rifles,  and  besides 


136 

the  weapon  threw  a  bullet  that  was  altogether  too 
small  to  possess  any  killing  power.  His  cousin  had 
told  him  that  it  might  answer  for  shooting  humming 
birds  and  ground-squirrels,  but  that  nothing  larger 
need  be  afraid  of  it.  George  had  knocked  over  a 
jack-rabbit  with  it,  and  the  rabbit  had  jumped  up 
and  made  off  as  though  there  was  nothing  the  mat 
ter  with  him,  carrying  the  bullet  somewhere  in  his 
body.  The  elegant  hunting-knife  was  intended  for 
skinning  the  game  that  fell  to  his  rifle,  but  up  to 
this  time  Ned  had  found  no  use  for  it. 

Ned  looked  as  formidable  as  usual  when  he 
mounted  his  horse  that  morning  and  rode  away  to 
meet  the  first  adventure  that  had  befallen  him  in 
Texas — the  first  one  worthy  of  record  of  which  he 
had  ever  been  the  hero.  He  made  his  way  directly 
to  the  top  of  the  swell  of  which  we  have  spoken, 
and  after  staking  out  his  horse  threw  himself  on  his 
blanket  under  the  shade  of  the  solitary  oak  that 
grew  beside  the  trail,  and  comfortably  settled  him 
self  to  idle  away  the  time  and  watch  for  his  long- 
expected  friend. 

"  If  he  ever  reaches  Palos  he  will  have  no  diffi 
culty  in  coming  the  rest  of  the  way,"  thought  Ned. 
"  The  people  from  this  part  of  the  country  always  put 


LIFE    ON    THE   PLAINS.  137 

up  at  one  hotel,  and  the  landlord  will  know  whether 
or  not  there  are  any  of  our  herdsmen  or  neighbors  in 
the  town.  It  is  the  fear  that  Gus  may  not  be  able 
to  leave  Foxboro'  that  troubles  me  just  at  present, 
If  anything  should  happen  to  keep  him  at  home, 
wouldn't  we  be  a  couple  of  disappointed  boys, 
though?  I  don't  believe  I  could  stand  it.  Hallo! 
What's  that?" 

Just  then  a  moving  object  in  the  horizon  caught 
Ned's  eye.  He  straightened  up  and  looked  at  it, 
and  presently  made  out  that  the  moving  object  was 
a  horseman.  He  was  coming  along  the  trail  toward 
the  swell,  and  coming  rapidly,  too.  Ned  looked  at 
him  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  settled  back  on  his 
elbow  with  an  exclamation  indicative  of  great  dis 
appointment. 

"It  can't  be  Gus,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  for  Gus 
could  never  find  his  way  here  from  Palos  alone.  It 
is  one  of  the  settlers,  probably.  I  hope  he  has 
brought  some  mail  for  us." 

Ned  placed  his  hands  under  his  head  and  watched 
the  horseman's  movements,  without  feeling  any  par 
ticular  interest  in  them,  until  he  saw  him  draw  rein 
and  come  to  a  sudden  stand-still.  He  had  just 
caught  sight  of  Ned's  horse.  He  sat  motionless  in 


138  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

his  saddle,  gazing  earnestly  toward  the  top  of  the 
swell  and  evidently  undecided  whether  to  advance 
or  retreat. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  takes  me  for  an  Indian  or  a 
Greaser!"  thought  Ned,  and  to  show  the  horseman 
that  he  was  neither,  he  picked  up  his  sombrero, 
which  lay  beside  him  on  his  blanket,  arid  waved  it 
over  his  head.  The  horseman  saw  the  motion  and 
must  have  taken  it  for  a  friendly  one,  for  he  once 
more  put  his  horse  into  a  gallop  and  came  toward 
the  swell.  He  rode  up  within  a  few  feet  of  Ned 
before  he  stopped  again,  and  the  two  took  a  good 
look  at  each  other  before  either  of  them  spoke. 

The  newcomer  was  a  stranger  in  that  part  of  the 
country ;  Ned  knew  that  the  instant  he  put  his  eyes 
on  him.  He  was  a  gentleman,  if  clothes  make  the 
gentleman,  and  was  the  first  one  Ned  had  seen  in 
long  months.  He  was  dressed  in  broadcloth,  wore 
fine  boots  on  his  feet,  rings  on  his  fingers  and  a 
breastpin  in  his  white  shirt-front.  He  was  a  good- 
looking  man,  too,  and  rode  a  horse  that  attracted 
Ned's  attention  at  once.  He  was  a  perfect  beauty — 
slender  and  clean-limbed,  with  a  long,  arching  neck, 
well-shaped  head  and  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and 
although  his  sides  were  heaving  and  his  glossy 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  139 

breast  was  flecked  with  the  foam  that  had  flown  from 
his  mouth  during  the  long  and  rapid  journey  he  had 
evidently  made,  his  eye  was  bright,  and  the  tight 
rein  his  rider  was  obliged  to  keep  upon  him  showed 
that  there  was  plenty  of  spirit  left  in  him.  The 
saddle  and  bridle  he  wore  were  made  after  the 
Mexican  pattern,  and  were  both  gaudily  orna 
mented. 

"  HoV  do  you  do,  sir?"  said  the  stranger,  after 
he  had  looked  at  Ned  and  run  his  eye  over  the  boy's 
horse,  which  had  advanced  to  meet  him  as  far  as  the 
length  of  his  lariat  would  permit.  "  Can  you  tell 
me  whereabouts  in  the  world  I  am — I  mean  how  far 
from  the  Rio  Grande?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  you  will  have  to  ride  twenty-five 
miles  in  a  straight  line  to  reach  it,"  replied  Ned. 
"  By  the  trail,  which  leads  to  the  nearest  ford,  and 
takes  in  all  the  ranches,  it  is  more  than  twice  as 
far." 

"  Twenty-five  miles !"  repeated  the  stranger, 
turning  about  in  his  saddle  and  looking  back  over 
the  way  he  had  come.  "  That's  a  long  pull  for  a 
tired  horse !" 

"  Hadn't  you  better  stop  and  take  a  rest?"  asked 
Ned,  whs  had  learned  how  to  be  hospitable  since  he 


140  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

came  to  Texas.  "  My  father's  ranch o  is  only  five 
miles  from  here,  and  every  house  is  a  hotel  in  this 
country/' 

"I  am  obliged  to  you,  but  I  can't  stop,"  replied 
the  stranger,  quickly.  "  I  am  in  a  great  hurry.  I 
must  take  the  straightest  course  for  the  river,  and  I 
don't  want  to  go  by  any  ranches.  When  night 
overtakes  me  I  can  camp  on  the  prairie.  I  am 
used  to  it.  But  I  wish  I  had  a  fresh  horse:  How 
will  you  trade  ?" 

"Trade!"  cried  Ned,  jumping  to  his  feet,  and 
looking  first  at  the  stranger's  fine  animal  and  then 
at  his  own  homely  beast.  "I'll  trade;  but  you'll 
have  to  go  home  with  me  to  get  the  boot  you 
want." 

u  I  can't  stop  for  that,  and  besides,  I  may  not 
ask  any  boot.  All  I  want  is  a  fresh  horse  and  a 
fast  one." 

"0,  mine  is  fast  and  as  fresh  as  a  daisy!"  ex 
claimed  Ned,  highly  elated  over  the  prospect  of 
becoming  the  owner  of  the  handsomest  horse  he  had 
ever  seen.  "  And  he  can  stand  the  pace,  too.  The 
man  I  bought  him  of  says  there's  no  tire  out  to 
him." 

"  I  know  a  good  animal  when  I  sec  him,"  an- 


THE  UNLUCKY  HORSE  TRADE. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  141 

swered  the  man,  with  a  smile.  "  I'll  trade  my 
horse,  saddle  and  bridle,  even  for  yours.  What  do 
you  say  ?" 

"I  say,  I'll  do  it!"  said  Ned,  who  was  so  de 
lighted  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

"All  right!"  said  the  man,  as  he  dismounted. 
"  Catch  up  !" 

Ned  lost  no  time  in  putting  the  saddle  and  bridle 
on  his  own  nag,  and  while  he  was  doing  it,  the 
stranger  stood,  holding  his  horse  by  the  bridle  and 
looking  back  over  the  way  he  had  come.  When 
Ned  brought  up  his  horse,  the  man  said : 

"  You're  sure  this  nag  belongs  to  you,  are  you  ? 
I  run  no  risk  of  being  stopped  by  anybody,  who  will 
lay  claim  to  him,  do  I  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  Ned,  "  he's  mine  ;  and  if  you 
will  go  to  our  rancho  with  me,  I  will  show  you  a  bill 
of  sale  of  him." 

"  I  asked  the  question  because  there  are  such 
things  in  the  world  as  horse-thieves,  you  know  !" 
said  the  stranger,  as  he  placed  his  own  bridle  in  the 
boy's  hand  and  seized  Ned's  horse  by  the  bit. 

"  There  are  no  such  things  in  this  country,  I  can 
tell  you,"  replied  Ned,  with  a  knowing  shake  of  his 
head.  "  The  settlers  would  turn  out  to  hunt  down 


142  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

a  horse-thief  as  rea/lily  as  they  would  to  hunt  down 
a  grizzly  bear.  It  wouldn't  even  be  safe  for  a  man 
to  be  found  here  with  a  stolen  horse  in  his  posses 
sion,  no  matter  whether  he  was  the  thief  or  not!" 

Why  was  it  that  Ned  did  not  ask  the  man  the 
same  question  which  the  latter  had  just  propounded 
to  him  ?  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  did  not  wish  to 
detain  him.  The  stranger  seenied  very  impatient  to 
mount  and  "resume  his  journey,  and  Ned  was  impa 
tient  to  have  him  do  so,  for  when  the  two  horses 
were  brought  closer  together,  anybody  could  see  that 
there  was  a  vast  difference  between  them.  No  sane 
man  would  have  proposed  such  an  exchange,  and 
just  then  it  occurred  to  the  amateur  horse-trader 
that  there  might  be  something  wrong  with  the 
animal.  Perhaps  he  wasn't  quite  safe  for  so  inex 
perienced  a  person  as  himself. 

"Is  he  perfectly  gentle?"  asked  Ned.  "He 
won't  kick  or  bite  or  throw  a  fellow  off,  will  he  ?" 

"0  no !  he's  as  quiet  as  an  old  cow.  A  child 
can  manage  him." 

"What's  his  name  ?" 

"I  call  him  Silk  Stocking — sometimes  Socks, 
for  short." 

As  the  stranger  said  this,  he  sprang  upon  Ned's 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  143 

horse,  looked  behind  him  once  more  as  if  to  make 
sure  that  there  was  no  one  following  him,  and  then 
waved  his  hand  to  the  boy  and  galloped  away.  Ned 
stood  looking  first  at  him  and  then  at  his  new  horse, 
fully  expecting  to  see  the  man  turn  about  and  come 
back  to  trade  over  again.  But  he  did  nothing  of 
the  kind.  He  kept  straight  ahead  (Ned  had  no  idea 
that  his  old  horse  could  travel  as  fast  as  he  did), 
turning  in  his  saddle  now  and  then  to  look  behind 
him,  and  at  last  he  disappeared  over  a  swell.  Then 
Ned,  with  a  long  breath  of  relief,  turned  to  give  his 
new  horse  another  good  looking  over. 

The  animal's  name — Silk  Stocking — suited  him 
exactly.  His  color  was  a  very  dark  chestnut ;  but 
his  mane  and  tail  were  as  white  as  snow,  and  so 
were  his  feet  and  his  legs,  too,  as  high  up  as  his 
kneesj  and  he  had  a  white  star  in  his  forehead.  The 
longer  his  delighted  owner  looked  at  him  the  hand 
somer  he  seemed  to  grow. 

"  That  man,  whoevej  he  may  be,  is  a  born  dunce/' 
was  Ned's  mental  comment.  "  He  says  he  knows  a 
good  horse  when  he  sees  one,  but  I  don't  believe  it. 
Why,  I  know  more  than  he  does.  I'd  never  trade 
a  horse  like  this  for  an  old  crowbait  like  mine.  I'd 


144  GEORGE    IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

take  a  day  longer  for  my  journey,  no  matter  how 
great  the  hurry  I  might  be  in." 

Ned  chuckling  to  himself  over  his  good  fortune, 
fastened  his  horse  to  a  swinging  branch  of  the  oak, 
and  proceeded  to  bundle  up  his  blanket  and  poncho 
which  he  tied  behind  his  saddle.  While  he  was 
pulling  up  the  picket-pin  and  curling  his  lasso,  a 
startling  suspicion  suddenly  sprung  up  in  his  mind. 
He  stopped  his  work  and  looked  at  his  horse  and 
then  at  the  ridge  over  which  he  had  seen  the  stran 
ger  disappear. 

"I  wonder  why  I  didn't  think  of  that  before!" 
said  Ned,  to  himself.  "He  was  very  careful  to 
inquire  if  I  owned  the  horse  I  traded  to  him,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  him  how  he  came  by 
this  one.  Well,  I  don't  know  that  it  makes  so  very 
much  difference  after  all,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's 
reflection.  "If  he  stole  the  horse — and  if  he  didn't 
steal  him  why  was  he  so  anxious  to  trade  ? — he  could 
have  told  a  lie  about  it  very  easily,  and  no  doubt  he 
would." 

Ned  was  not  at  all  pleased  with  the  thought, 
which  now  kept  forcing  itself  upon  him,  that  per 
haps  he  had  not  made  so  fine  a  bargain  after  all.  If 
the  horse  was  a  stolen  one,  and  the  lawful  ownei 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  145 

should  succeed  in  tracing  him,  lie  could  demand  his 
property,  and  Ned  would  have  to  give  it  up.  This 
was  something  he  did  not  want  to  do.  He  had 
already  taken  a  great  liking  to  his  new  horse,  and 
could  not  bear  the  thought  of  parting  with  him. 

"And  I  never  will  part  with  him  either,  if  I  can 
help  it,"  declared  Ned,  after  he  had  taken  time  to 
think  over  the  situation.  "I  was  going  to  show  him 
to  father  as  soon  as  I  got  home,  but  now  I'll  just 
keep  still  about  him.  It  isn't  likely  that  he  was 
stolen  anywhere  in  the  county,  and  perhaps  the 
owner  will  never  be  able  to  get  on  the  track  of  him. 
I'll  hold  fast  to  him  as  long  as  I  can,  at  any  rate, 
and  keep  his  existence  a  profound  secret,  and  if  his 

owner  ever  finds  him  I  can  say Well,  what's  the 

use  of  thinking  about  that  now?  I  can  make  up  a 
story  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  that  will  get  me  out 
of  the  tighest  scrape  a  boy  ever  got  into.  At  least 
I  always  have  been  able  to  do  it !" 

With  this  reflection  to  comfort  and  encourage  him 
Ned  hung  his  lasso  upon  t.he  horn  of  his  saddle, 
mounted  his  new  horse  and  set  out  for  home.  The 
animal  moved  off  at  a  free  walk  until  Ned  called  on 
him  to  go  faster,  and  then  he  broke  into  a  rapid 

gallop;  but   his  motions  were  so  regular  and  easy 
10 


146  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

that  his  rider  was  scarcely  moved  in  the  saddle. 
Ned  was  a  little  afraid  of  him  at  first,  for  he  carried 
his  head  high  and  kept  his  ears  thrown  forward  and 
his  eyes  roving  about  as  if  he  were  trying  to  find 
something  to  get  frightened  at;  but  he  could  be  very 
easily  controlled,  and  Ned  could  stop  him  while  he 
was  going  at  the  top  of  his  speed  by  a  single  word. 
He  seemed  perfectly  willing  to  travel  at  his  best 
speed  all  the  time,  but  Ned,  after  enjoying  the  rapid 
motion  for  a  few  minutes,  gently  checked  him,  and 
then  the  animal  settled  down  into  an  easy  pace.  He 
proved  to  be  what  the  natives  would  have  called  a 
gated  horse ;  that  is,  he  had  been  broken  to  amble, 
fox-trot,  pace,  run  or  square  trot,  just  as  his  rider 
desired.  Ned  knew  that  some  of  the  ranchemen 
in  the  neighborhood  had  paid  two  thousand  dollars 
apiece  for  just  such  horses. 

"I  declare  it  frightens  me  to  think  of  it,"  said 
Ned,  and  almost  involuntarily  he  faced  about  in  his 
saddle  and  looked  behind  him,  just  as  the  stranger 
had  done,  to  see  if  there  was  any  one  following 
.him. 

"I  wish  he  wasn't  worth  so  much  money,  for  I 
shall  live  in  constant  fear  that  his  owner  will  be 
along  here  some  day  hunting  him  up.  I  know  that 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  147 

if  he  had  been  stolen  from  me  I  should  never  sleep 
soundly  until  I  found  him." 

During  the  ride  to  the  rancho,  Ned  often  looked 
behind  him,  fully  expecting  every  time  he  did  so  tc 
see  a  horseman  or  two  galloping  along  the  trail  in 
pursuit ;  but  he  was  alone  on  the  prairie,  and  to  his 
great  relief  there  was  no  one  about  the  house  or 
yard  to  see  him  come  home  with  his  prize  or  to  ask 
him  questions  that  he  did  not  want  to  answer.  He 
hitched  the  horse  under  the  shed  and  supplied  him 
with  a  good  feed  of  corn,  and  no  one  was  the  wiser 
for  it. 

While  the  horse  was  eating  Ned  stood  by  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  admiring  him,  and  it  was 
with  the  greatest  reluctance  that  he  left  him  long 
enough  to  go  into  the  house  to  get  his  own  supper. 
He  said  nothing  to  his  father  regarding  the  events 
of  the  afternoon,  for  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that, 
for  the  present  at  least,  he  had  better  keep  his  own 
counsel. 

It  was  customary  for  Ned  and  his  father  to  start 
out  every  evening,  as  soon  as  it  began  to  grow  dark, 
for  a  short  walk  up  and  down  the  trail  in  front  of 
the  house,  and  on  this  particular  evening  they  con 
tinued  their  agreeable  exercise  until  a  later  hour  than 


148  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

usual.  As  they  were  about  to  retrace  their  steps 
they  heard  the  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  trail,  and 
presently  two  horsemen  dashed  up  to  them  and 
came  to  a  full  stop.  They  were  rough-looking 
fellows  and  carried  revolvers  in  their  belts.  Ned, 
believing  that  they  were  raiders,  could  hardly  refrain 
from  screaming  at  the  sight  of  them,  and  even 
Uncle  John  acted  as  though  he  didn't  know  whether 
to  stand  still  or  run  away.  The  latter's  fears,  how 
ever,  if  he  had  any,  were  speedily  set  at  rest,  while 
Ned's  were  increased  a  thousand  fold. 

"  Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  exclaimed  one  of 
the  horsemen.  "  Do  you  live  about  here?" 

"  My  rancho  is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  farther 
down  the  trail,"  answered  Uncle  John. 

"  Have  you  lived  here  long  enough  to  know  all 
the  people  in  the  neighborhood?" 

"  I  have  lived  here  a  little  more  than  a  year." 

"  Have  you  seen  a  stranger  pass  through  the 
settlement  to-day,  either  of  you?" 

u  I  have  seen  no  one;  have  you,  Ned?" 

Ned,  who  was  trembling  in  every  limb,  controlled 
himself  as  well  as  he  could  and  replied  that  he  had 
not. 

"  There  has  been  one  along  hero,"  continued  the 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  149 

horseman,  "  for  we  have  traced  him,  and  we  know 
that  we  are  not  very  far  behind  him.  He  is  making 
for  the  river.  He  is  a  stylish-looking  fellow,  well 
dressed,  wears  a  good  deal  of  jewelry,  and  rides  a 
chestnut-colored  horse,  with  white  mane  and  tail, 
four  white  feet  and  a  star  in  his  forehead. 

"I  haven't  seen  any  such  man  or  horse,"  said 
Uncle  John. 

"I  haven't  either,"  said  Ned,  faintly. 

It  was  well  for  him  that  it  was  so  dark. 


150  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A   VISIT   FROM   THE   HAIDERS. 

has  this  man  done?"  continued  Uncle 
John. 

"  0,  he  got  into  a  little  trouble  down  there  in 
our  settlement,  and  had  to  dig  out ;  so  he  stole  the 
best  horse  in  the  state  to  help  him  along.  That 
will  be  the  means  of  getting  him  into  big  trouble, 
if  we  put  our  eyes  on  him ;  but  we  don't  much 
expect  to  catch  him,  for  the  horse  he  stole  can 
travel  for  a  week  at  his  best  pace,  and  our  nags, 
which  were  fresh  this  morning,  are  pretty  nearly 
whipped." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  can  give  you  no  information 
concerning  him,"  said  Uncle  John  ;  "but  I  will  tell 
you  what  I  can  do — I  can  give  you  some  supper, 
and  you  can  take  your  pick  out  of  twenty  fresh 
horses  in  my  corral." 

Both  the  horsemen  expressed  hearty  thanks  for 
this  kind  offer  of  assistance,  and  were  prompt  to 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  151 

accept  it.  They  didn't  care  much  for  anything  to 
eat,  they  said,  for  they  were  used  to  going  hungry ; 
but  they  would  take  a  hasty  lunch,  while  Uncle 
John  was  getting  their  fresh  horses  ready,  and  if  he 
would  put  them  'on  a  straight  course  for  the  nearest 
ford,  they  would  be  much  obliged,  and  would  take 
pleasure  in  doing  as  much  for  him,  if  he  ever  came 
to  their  settlement. 

Ned  listened  to  all  this  in  speechless  amazement 
and  alarm.  The  stolen  horse  was  hitched  under 
the  shed,  in  plain  view  of  the  porch,  beside  which 
the  strangers  would  dismount,  and  if  it  had  been 
daylight,  nothing  could  have  saved  him  from  disco 
very.  True,  it  was  dark  now — so  dark  that  the 
boy's  frightened  face  was  eifectually  concealed, — 
but  Ned  knew  that  the  moon  would  rise  in  less  than 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  if  anything  should  happen 
to  detain  the  visitors  at  the  rancho,  or  if  they  should 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  pry  into  things  after  they 
got  there,  something  disagreeable  would  be  sure  to 
happen.  Ned  did  not  like  to  think  about  it.  He 
accompanied  the  men  to  his  home,  where  he  made 
himself  very  officious,  taking  charge  of  their  horses, 
and  showing  so  much  anxiety  to  have  them  go  right 
into  the  house,  that  it  is  a  wonder  their  suspicions 


152  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

were  not  aroused,  He  could  scarcely  breache  until 
he  saw  his  father  conduct  them  into  the  rancho,  and 
close  the  door  behind  them. 

"What's  the  trouble?"  asked  the  herdsman  who 
had  been  sent  out  to  catch  and  saddle  the  fresh 
horses.  "  Who  are  those  men,  and  where  are  they 
travelling  to  at  this  time  of  night?" 

"I  don't  know,"  was  Ned's  reply.  "  They  want 
to  reach  the  river  as  soon  as  possible,  and  you  had 
better  hurry  up  and  get  the  horses  ready." 

"  Humph  !"  exclaimed  the  herdsman,  as  he  led 
the  strangers'  nags  toward  the  corral.  "  Horse- 
thieves,  for  a  dollar !" 

Ned  did  not  care  what  opinions  the  man  formed 
concerning  the  visitors,  so  long  as  he  did  not  hit 
upon  the  right  one.  It  might  be  dangerous  to  let 
any  of  the  servants  know  that  the  men  were  in 
search  of  a  chestnut  horse,  with  four  white  feet,  and 
a  star  in  his  forehead ;  for  it  was  very  probable  that 
some  of  them  had  by  this  time  found  out  that  there 
was  such  a  horse  hitched  under  the  shed,  and  it 
would  be  just  like  them  to  say  something  about  it. 
There  were  a  good  many  ways  in  which  tha 
strangers  might  learn  all  they  wanted  to  know,  and 
Ned  would  have  been  glad  to  hide  himself  some- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  153 

where,  until  they  had  taken  their  departure ;  but 
he  dared  not  go  away,  for  fear  that,  during  his 
absence,  his  secret  might  leak  out  in  some  way. 
lie  hoped  to  prevent  such  a  calamity  by  staying 
there  and  hurrying  the  men  off  when  they  came 
out. 

Ned  walked  up  and  down  the  porch,  in  a  fever 
of  excitement  and  suspense,  and  at  the  end  of  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  was  greatly  relieved  to  see  the 
herdsman  coming  with  the  fresh  horses. 

"  Give  them  to  me,"  said  Ned,  when  they  had 
been  brought  up  to  the  porch.  "  I'll  hold  them 
until  the  men  come  out." 

"  Well,  you  hold  one  and  I'll  hold  the  other," 
answered  the  herdsman,  putting  one  of  the  bridles 
in  Ned's  hand.  "  I  want  to  have  a  good  look  at 
those  fellows." 

Ned  was  almost  ready  to  cry  with  rage  and 
alarm.  He  could  not  send  the  man  away,  if  he 
was  resolved  to  remain ;  and  while  he  was  wonder 
ing  if  he  had  not  better  go  himself  and  trust  to 
luck,  a  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  porch,  which 
gave  entrance  into  the  kitchen,  was  opened,  and  the 
Mexican  cook  came  out. 

This  was  the  man  whom  George  declared  to  be 


154  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

mean  enough  for  anything.  The  old  cook,  who  had 
had  charge  of  the  culinary  department  of  the  rancbe 
during  Mr.  Ackerman's  lifetime  had  been  dis 
charged  at  the  request  of  Ned,  who  had  some  fault 
to  find  with  the  man,  and  this  Mexican,  who  came 
from,  nobody  seemed  to  know  where,  had  been  em 
ployed  to  take  his  place.  No  one  about  the  ranche 
liked  him.  He  was  an  excellent  cook,  but  he  was 
always  slipping  about  the  house  on  tip-toe,  as  if  he 
were  trying  to  find  out  something,  and  seemed  to 
have  a  way  of  getting  at  everything  he  wanted  to 
know.  He  walked  up  the  porch  in  his  stealthy, 
noiseless  way,  looked  all  around,  to  make  sure  that 
he  was  not  observed,  then  bent  his  face  close  to 
Ned's,  and  was  about  to  whisper  something  to  him, 
when  he  discovered  the  herdsman,  who  was  stand 
ing  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  holding  the  other 
horse. 

"Who's  that?"  he  demanded. 

"Me!"  answered  the  herdsman. 

"  0,"  said  the  cook,  recognising  the  voice.   "  Well, 
go  in  and  get  your  supper.     It  is  all  ready." 

"I'll  go  as  soon  as  I  see  these  visitors  off." 

"You'll  go  now  or   you  won't   get   it  at   all," 
exclaimed  the  cook.     "I  shan't  keep  it  waiting  for 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  155 

you.  I  want  to  get  through  in  that  kitchen  some 
time  to-night." 

The  herdsman  muttered  something  under  his 
breath,  passed  the  bridle  of  the  horse  he  was  hold 
ing  up  to  Ned  and  went  into  the  kitchen.  The 
Mexican  watched  him  until  he  disappeared,  and 
then,  with  another  suspicious  glance  around,  came 
up  to  Ned. 

"I  know  where  that  horse  is,"  said  he,  in  a  low 
tone. 

"What  horse?"  Ned  almost  gasped. 

"  The  one  that  was  stolen." 

"I — I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  stammered 
Ned. 

"  0,  I  heard  them  talking  about  it  in  there  while 
I  was  dishing  up  the  supper  to  them,"  replied  the 
cook,  nodding  his  head  as  if  to  say  that  it  was  of 
no  use  whatever  for  Ned  to  feign  ignorance  of  the 
matter.  "  He's  a  chestnut-colored  horse,  with  four 
white  feet  and  a  star  in  his  forehead.  He's  out 
under  that  shed  now,  'cause  I  saw  him  there !  Eh ! 
He  belongs  to  the  wife  of  one  of  those  men  inside, 
and  she  calls  him  Silk  Stocking ;  but  all  the  men 
folks  about  the  ranche  poke  fun  at  her  and  make 
her  mad  by  calling  him  Socks.  Eh!" 


156  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

The  Mexican  poked  Ned  in  the  ribs  with  his 
finger  and  straightened  up  and  looked  at  him.  He 
laughed,  too,  and  seemed  to  regard  the  whole  matter 
in  the  light  of  an  excellent  joke — but  Ned  didn't. 

"  Powerful  men,  those  in  there,"  continued  the 
Mexican,  jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulders 
toward  the  door.  "They  carry  big  revolvers  in 
their  belts,  and  are  dead  shots ;  I  know  it  by  the 
looks  of  'em.  They're  mad,  too — so  mad  that  I 
wouldn't  give  much  for  the  man  in  whose  hands 
they  find  that  horse." 

"  Gracious !"  ejaculated  Ned,  who  trembled  all 
over.  He  wished  now  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart 
that  he  had  told  everything  at  the  start ;  and  while 
he  was  wondering  if  it  were  now  too  late  to  do  so 
and  escape  any  very  serious  consequences,  the  door 
opened  and  the  men  came  out.  One  look  at  them 
was  enough  to  drive  all  thoughts  of  confession  out 
of  the  boy's  mind.  How  tall  and  broad-shouldered 
they  were,  and  how  fierce  they  looked  when  the  light 
from  the  lamp  in  the  hall  fell  full  upon  their  bearded 
faces.  They  stood  upon  the  porch  for  a  few  seconds, 
talking  with  Uncle  John  and  listening  to  his  instruc 
tions  regarding  the  course  they  ought  to  follow  in 
order  to  reach  the  ford,  and  then  they  took  the 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  157 

bridles  from  Ned's  hand  and  were  about  to  mount 
when  a  loud,  shrill  neigh  sounded  from  the  direction 
of  the  shed. 

Three  of  those  who  heard  it  were  visibly  affected 
by  it.  The  visitors  looked  at  each  other  in  surprise, 
while  Ned  leaned  heavily  upon  the  railing  of  the 
porch  for  support.  If  there  had  been  no  railing 
there  he  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  for  there 
was  no  strength  in  him. 

"  That  sounds  wonderfully  like  Sock's  voice, 
doesn't  it?"  exclaimed  one  of  the  visitors. 

The  other  replied  that  it  certainly  did. 

"What  horse  is  that  out  there  under  the  shed," 
asked  Uncle  John. 

"  It's  Ned's  old  cob, sir,"  said  the  cook,  promptly; 
and  Ned  was  glad  that  the  man  answered  for  him, 
for  he  could  not  have  uttered  a  word  to  save  his  life. 
Frightened  as  he  was  he  wondered  at  the  cook's 

o 

reply.  Why  did  he  not  say  that  the  stolen  horse 
was  there,  and  claim  the  liberal  reward  that  had 
probably  been  offered  for  his  recovery  ? 

"  I  never  heard  anything  sound  so  much  like 
Socks's  neigh  in  my  life,"  declared  one  of  the  vis 
itors,  as  he  jumped  into  the  saddle.  "But  of  course 
it  can't  be,  for  the  horse  is  a  long  way  from  here  by 


158  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

this  time.  Mr.  Ackerman,  we  are  indebted  to  you 
for  your  kindness  and  hospitality." 

"  You  are  very  welcome,"  answered  Uncle  John. 
"I  am  only  sorry  that  I  can't  do  more  for  you." 

The  visitors  lifted  their  hats  and  rode  away  out  of 
sight;  Uncle  John  turned  about  and  went  into  the 
house ;  the  cook  returned  to  his  quarters  in  the 
kitchen,  and  Ned  was  left  alone  clinging  to  the  rail 
ing  of  the  verandah.  He  could  hardly  believe  that 
the  trying  scenes  through  which  he  had  just  passed 
were  realities.  They  seemed  more  like  a  troubled 
dream. 

"  If  anybody  can  come  as  near  getting  caught  as 
I  did  and  yet  escape,  I'd  like  to  see  him  do  it," 
thought  Ned,  when  his  mind  became  settled  so  that 

O 

he  could  think  at  all.  "I  never  heard  of  a  closer 
shave,  and  I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  one." 

Ned  was  not  very  highly  elated  over  his  escape, 
for  he  knew  that  he  was  not  yet  wholly  out  of  danger. 
On  the  contrary,  he  would  never  be  out  of  danger 
while  that  horse  was  in  his  possession.  Those  two 
men  would  come  back  some  day  to  return  the  horses 
they  had  borrowed  of  Uncle  John  and  reclaim  their 
own,  and  they  might  come,  too,  when  they  were 
least  expected,  and  before  Ned  had  opportunity  to 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  150 

secrete  the  stolen  horse.  It  was  too  late  now  to 
avoid  trouble  by  giving  the  animal  up  to  his  lawful 
owner,  for  the  latter  would  want  to  know  why  he 
had  not  given  him  up  before,  and  Ned  did  not  know 
what  answer  he  could  make  to  so  awkward  a  ques 
tion  as  that.  Besides,  there  was  Philip,  the  Mexi 
can  cook.  Ned  grew  angry  and  alarmed  every  time 
he  thought  of  him.  The  man  was  up  to  something 
beyond  a  doubt,  for  if  he  were  not,  what  was  the 
reason  he  did  not  tell  the  strangers  that  the  horse  of 
which  they  were  in  search  was  under  the  shed  where 
Ned  had  left  him  ? 

The  boy  was  in  a  very  tight  place,  and  he  did  not 
know  which  way  to  turn.  He  was  in  a  scrape  at 
last  that  he  could  not  lie  out  of.  The  longer  he 
dwelt  upon  it  the  plainer  he  saw  the  dangers  of  the 
situation  and  the  greater  became  his  alarm.  He 
walked  slowly  down  the  steps  and  turned  his  face 
toward  the  shed  in  which  the  stolen  horse  was  con 
fined.  The  animal  welcomed  him  with  a  low  whinny 
of  recognition,  and  when  Ned  patted  his  sleek  neck 
he  rubbed  his  head  against  his  shoulders  as  if  he 
were  glad  to  see  him.  Beyond  a  doubt  he  was 
somebody's  pet,  and  the  boy  did  not  wonder  that  his 
owner  was  anxious  to  recover  him. 


160  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

Ned,  whose  nervousness  and  excitement  seemed 
to  increase  all  the  while,  stayed  there  in  the  shed  for 
two  long  hours,  walking  restlessly  about  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  asking  himself  over  and 
over  again  why  he  did  not  tell  his  father  all  about 
the  new  horse  when  he  first  came  home,  and  what 
he  should  do  to  bring  himself  out  of  the  scrape  he 
had  got  into  through  his  foolishness.  When  bed-time 
came  the  servants  began  shutting  up  the  rancho  for 
the  night.  He  heard  them  closing  the  heavy  shut 
ters  and  locking  and  barring  the  doors,  but  he  did 
not  move.  He  could  not  bear  to  go  to  bed  just 
then,  and  he  knew  that  when  his  nervousness  abated 
so  that  he  could  sleep  he  could  gain  admittance  to 
the  house  through  the  door  that  was  always  left 
unfastened  to  accommodate  any  of  the  servants  who 
might  happen  to  be  out  later  than  usual. 

The  rancho  looked  gloomy  and  dark  enough  after 
the  shutters  and  doors  were  closed.  It  stood  out  in 
bold  relief  against  the  sky,  looking  like  one  of  the 
haunted  castles  of  which  Ned  had  so  often  read. 
The  bright  moonlight  gave  it  an  almost  unearthly 
appearance,  Ned  thought;  and  when  at  last  all 
sounds  of  life  about  the  building  had  died  away,  he 
began  to  feel  lonely  and  afraid — afraid  to  stay 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  161 

longer  where  he  was  and  afraid  to  pass  across  the 
lighted  yard  between  the  shed  and  the  back  porch 
of  the  rancho. 

"I  really  must  go,"  thought  Ned.  after  he  had 
started  toward  the  house  two  or  three  times,  and  as 
often  drawn  back  again  to  wait  until  he  could 
gather  a  fresh  supply  of  courage.  "  I  have  been 
frightened  so  many  times  to-night  that  I  imagine  all 
sorts  of  things.  Every  tree  and  bush  I  look  at, 
turns  into  a  horseman,  and  I  am  almost " 

Ned  stopped  suddenly,  and  stooping  close  to  the 
ground,  looked  sharply  at  some  object  in  the  dis 
tance.  "Whew!"  he  exclaimed,  drawing  his  hand 
across  his  dripping  forehead,  "  it  did  look  like  a 
long  line  of  horsemen  and — so  it  is.  Yes,  sir,  I  can 
see  them  plainly  enough.  It's  all  over  with  Ned 
Ackerrnan  now  !" 

The  boy  turned  in  the  instant  and  placing  his 
hands  on  the  side  of  the  deep  manger  which  ran  the 
whole  length  of  one  end  of  the  shed,  vaulted  over  it, 
and  concealed  himself.  He  lay  for  a  moment  trem 
bling  with  alarm,  and  then  pulling  off  his  hat,  cau 
tiously  raised  his  head  until  he  could  see  over  the 
top  of  the  manger.  The  objects  which  had  aroused 

his  fears  were  certainly  mounted  men,     They  were 
11 


162  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

moving  in  single  file  by  the  side  of  the  trail,  and  as 
the  long,  thick  grass  deadened  the  sound  of  their 
horses'  feet,  their  approach  was  almost  noiseless. 

"  What  are  they  ?"  thought  Ned,  ducking  his 
head  after  he  had  taken  one  short,  quick  glance 
at  the  men.  "  Are  they  raiders,  or  have  those 
strangers  found  out  something  and  come  back  with 
reinforcements?" 

Ned  could  not  have  told  just  then  which  he  stood 
the  more  in  fear  of — the  angry  owner  of  the  horse 
at  his  side  or  lawless  Mexicans.  He  knew  that  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  either 
of  them.  He  could  not  reach  the  shelter  of  the 
house — they  could  easily  cut  him  off  if  he  attempted 
it — and  his  only  chance  to  escape  capture,  or  some 
thing  worse,  was  to  remain  quiet  in  his  place  of  con 
cealment,  and  trust  to  luck.  It  was  not  at  all  likely 
that  the  horsemen,  whoever  they  were,  would  think 
of  looking  in  the  shed  for  him  even  if  they  wanted 
to  find  him. 

Just  then  Ned's  new  horse  threw  up  his  head, 
looked  over  his  shoulder  and  uttered  a  loud,  shrill 
neigh.  Ned  tried  hard  to  stop  it,  but  without  suc 
cess.  The  animal  neighed  not  only  once,  but  two  or 
three  times  in  succession,  in  spite  of  the  furious 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  163 

jerks  the  boy  gave  at  his  bridle.  Here  was  a  new 
cause  for  alarm.  The  animal  wanted  company,  and 
he  would  keep  up  that  neighing  as  long  as  there 
were  any  horses  in  sight.  He  would  be  sure  to 
attract  attention  by  it  too. 

"  You'll  keep  me  in  trouble  as  long  as  you  stay 
with  me,"  said  Ned,  jumping  to  his  feet  to  act  upon 
an  idea  that  just  then  came  into  his  mind,  "  and  the 
sooner  you  and  I  part  company  the  better  it  will  bo 
for  me.  There  you  go,"  he  added,  as  he  pulled  the 
halter  over  the  horse's  head  and  saw  him  gallop  out 
of  the  shed.  "  I  hope  I  shall  never  see  you  again. 
I  wish  I  had  never  seen  you  in  the  first  place." 

Ned  felt  a  little  more  at  his  ease  as  he  sank  back 
into  his  place  of  concealment.  The  danger  of  dis 
covery  was  considerably  lessened  by  this  piece  of 
strategy,  but  still  his  situation  was  anything  but  an 
agreeable  one.  There  he  was,  cornered  in  a  manger 
by  a  lot  of  men  whose  actions  indicated  that  they 
were  there  for  no  good  purpose,  who  were  approach 
ing  the  house  in  a  stealthy  manner,  so  as  not  to 
alarm  the  inmates,  and  who,  probably,  would  think 
no  more  of  making  an  end  of  him,  if  they  knew  he 
was  there  in  plain  sight  of  them,  than  they  would 
of  knocking  over  an  antelope  for  breakfast.  The 


164  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

situation  would  have  tried  the  courage  of  a  much 
braver  boy  than  Ned  Ackerman. 

The  horsemen  stopped  when  they  saw  the  chest 
nut  galloping  to  meet  them,  but  moved  forward 
again  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  he  was  riderless. 
They  rode  up  to  the  fence  which  surrounded  the 
corral,  and  hitched  their  horses  to  it.  The  chestnut 
followed  and  mingled  with  their  nags,  but  the  men 
paid  no  attention  to  him.  They  gathered  in  a  little 
group  in  the  shade  of  one  of  the  oaks  that  grew 
beside  the  corral,  and  held  a  consultation.  Ned 
watched  their  movements  with  a  good  deal  of  sur 
prise. 

"Why  don't  those  men  catch  that  horse?"  said 
he  to  himself.  "If  they  are  raiders,  they  ought  to 
steal  him ;  and  if  the  man  who  owns  him  is  there, 
he  ought  to  catch  him,  to  keep  him  from  straying 
away.  I  don't  understand  it  at  all." 

While  Ned  was  talking  to  himself  in  this  way,  he 
heard  a  latch  softly  raised.  He  turned  his  eyes  in 
the  direction  of  the  rancho,  and  saw  that  one  of  the 
doors,  opening  on  to  the  back  porch,  was  ajar,  and 
that  somebody  was  looking  out  of  it.  He  stood  for 
a  moment,  turning  his  head  first  on  one  side  and 
then  on  the  other,  as  if  he  were  listening  for  some- 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  165 

thing,  and  then  came  out  into  full  view.  It  was  the 
Mexican  cook.  The  moon's  rays  fell  full  upon  him, 
and  the  boy  could  see  him  plainly. 

"Now  is  my  chance!"  thought  Ned,  getting 
upon  his  feet,  but  standing  in  a  crouching  attitude, 
so  that  nothing  but  his  head  could  be  seen  over  the 
top  of  the  manger.  "  If  I  can  run  fast  enough,  I 
can  put  myself  in  a  place  of  safety  and  warn  Philip 
at  the  same  time." 

Ned  jumped  quickly  out  of  the  manger,  as  he 
said  this ;  but  his  feet  had  scarcely  touched  the 
ground  before  he  turned  like  a  flash  and  jumped 
back  again,  crouching  down  in  his  hiding-place  as 
low  as  he  could,  and  still  see  all  that  was  going  on 
outside  the  shed.  The  men  were  coming  in  a  body 
toward  the  house.  There  were  fifteen  or  twenty  of 
them  in  all,  and  as  soon  as  they  had  moved  out  of 
the  shade  of  the  trees,  so  that  the  moon's  rays  could 
fall  plainly  upon  them,  Ned  saw  that  they  were 
dressed  in  Mexican  costume — short  jackets,  wide 
trowsers  and  sombreros — and  that  they  were  armed 
to  the  teeth.  They  were  cattle-thieves,  of  course ; 
but  what  did  they  mean  by  approaching  the  rancho 
in  that  stealthy  manner?  The  boy,  trembling  in 
every  limb,  turned  his  eyes  from  the  Mexicans  to 


166  GEORGE  IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

the  porch,  where  he  had  last  seen  the  cook.  He 
was  there  yet,  and  standing  out  in  plain  view  of  the 
raiders,  who  must  have  seen  him,  for  he  was  not 
more  than  twenty  feet  away.  Philip  saw  them,  too, 
beyond  a  doubt ;  but,  instead  of  running  into  the 
house  and  arousing  the  inmates,  as  Ned  expected 
him  to  do,  he  walked  up  to  the  rail  and  rested  his 
hands  upon  it.  One  would  have  thought  from  his 
actions  that  he  was  expecting  the  raiders.  Ned 
thought  so,  and  in  an  instant  it  flashed  upon  him 
that  there  was  some  treachery  intended. 

" Father  always  said  that  Philip  was  a  rascal!" 
soliloquized  Ned,  his  rage  for  the  moment  getting 
the  better  of  his  terror,  "and  now  I  know  he  is 
one !  He  is  a  cattle-thief  himself,  and  he  and  the 
rest  are  after  the  money-box !  But  how  could 
Philip  have  found  out  that  we  had  a  money-box?" 
added  Ned,  as  he  recalled  the  fact  that  the  cook 
belonged  in  the  kitchen,  and  had  probably  never 
seen  the  inside  of  his  father's  office;  "and  even  if 
he  had  known  all  about  the  box,  how  could  he  have 
told  his  friends  of  it  ?  He  hasn't  been  away  from 
the  house  an  hour  at  a  time  since  he  has  been 
here." 

Ned  might  have  kept  on  propounding  to  himself 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  167 

questions  that  he  could  not  answer,  but  his  thoughts 
were  carried  into  other  channels  by  the  actions  of 
the  raiders,  who  walked  straight  up  to  the  porch 
where  Philip  was  standing,  and  entered  into  a  whis 
pered  conversation  with  him.  Ned  could  not  over 
hear  what  was  said,  but  he  saw  the  cook  turn 
toward  the  house  and  extend  his  hands  in  different 
directions,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  give  his  friends 
(for  such  they  undoubtedly  wrere)  some  idea  of  its 
internal  arrangements.  Probably  he  was  telling 
them  where  to  find  the  office  and  the  strong  box. 
If  such  was  the  case,  it  took  him  but  a  moment  to 
do  it ;  and  when  the  raiders  had  learned  all  they 
wanted  to  know,  they  stepped  lightly  upon  the 
porch  and  followed  Philip  toward  the  open  door. 
When  they  reached  it,  Philip  pushed  it  farther 
open,  stood  on  one  side  to  allow  them  to  pass,  and 
the  raiders  filed  in,  one  after  the  other,  on  tip-toe ! 
Half  their  number  had  disappeared  in  the  house, 
when  all  at  once  a  deafening  uproar  arose.  There 
was  a  fight  going  on  in  the  hall.  First  there  was  a 
lou  1  yell,  that  was  evidently  given  by  one  of  the 
servants  to  arouse  his  sleeping  companions,  and  the 
yell  was  accompanied  rather  than  followed  by  a 
crash  which  made  Ned  believe  that  the  inside  of  the 


168  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

house  was  being  torn  in  pieces.  It  was  the  report 
of  a  revolver.  Another  and  another  followed,  and 
an  instant  afterward,  the  raiders,  having  failed  :n 
their  efforts  to  surprise  the  inmates  of  the  rancho, 
appeared  in  great  confusion,  crowding  through  the 
door  in  a  body,  and  in  their  haste  prostrating  the 
cook,  who  was  knocked  off  the  porch  to  the  ground. 
He  lay  for  a  moment  as  if  stunned  by  the  fall,  and 
then  sprang  up  and  ran  away  with  the  rest. 

The  baffled  raiders  scattered  in  every  direction, 
and  taking  refuge  behind  the  out-buildings  and  lum 
ber  piles  opened  a  hot  fire  on  the  rancho  from  their 
carbines.  To  Ned's  intense  alarm  two  of  them  ran 
straight  for  the  shed.  He  saw  them  coming,  and 
ducking  his  head  crept  swiftly  into  the  farthest 
end  of  the  manger  and  crowded  himself  into  the 
darkest  corner.  One  of  the  men  dodged  behind  a 
wagon,  but  the  other  dashed  into  the  shed,  jumped 
into  the  manger  and  taking  up  a  position  in  the 
opposite  end,  scarcely  fifteen  feet  from  the  trembling 
boy,  fired  his  carbine  at  the  door  from  which  he  and 
his  companions  had  just  been  driven.  Ned  was 
almost  ready  to  scream  with  terror,  but  knowing 
that  his  safety  depended  upon  his  preserving  the 
strictest  silonce3  he  choked  back  the  cry  while  it  was 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  169 

trembling  on  his  lips,  and  covering  his  face  with  his 
hands  awaited  the  issue  of  events  with  all  the  forti 
tude  he  could  command. 

Fortunately  the  Mexican  in  the  other  end  of  the 
manger  was  so  busily  engaged  in  loading  and  firing 
that  he  could  not  take  time  to  look  about  him  dur 
ing  the  very  few  minutes  that  he  remained  in  his 
hiding-place.     The  inmates  of  the  rancho  defended 
themselves   with  spirit,  and  one   of  their   number, 
becoming  aware  that   there  was  an    enemy  in  the 
shed,  fired   three  shots  from   his  revolver  in  that 
direction.     Ned's  hair   fairly  stood  on  end   as    he 
heard  the  bullets  crashing  through  the  planks  which 
formed  the  outside  of  the  manger.     The  eccentric 
and  hurried  movements  of  the  Mexican  proved  that 
he  was  no  less  embarrassed  by  them,  and  when  the 
third  bullet  came  in,  striking  closer  to  his  head  than 
the  others,  he  uttered  an  exclamation  in  Spanish, 
and  jumping  out  of  the  manger  ran  off  to  find  a 
exposed  ambush.     Ned  was  glad  to  see  him  go. 

"  I  wonder  what  they  mean  by  such  work,  any 
how?"  thought  Ned,  who,  frightened  as  he  was, 
could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  get  upon  his  knees 
and  look  over  the  top  of  the  manger.  "  Haven't 
they  got  sense  enough  to  see  that  our  fellows  have 


170  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  advantage  of  them,  and  that  there  is  nothing  to 
be  gained  by  shooting  at  stone  walls  ?  There  I  I 
guess  they  are  going  now !" 

Just  then  one  of  the  band  uttered  a  shrill  whistle, 
and  the  firing  ceased  almost  immediately.  Ned 
looked  to  see  them  mount  and  ride  away  without 
loss  of  time,  but  the  sequel  proved  that  they  were 
not  yet  ready  to  give  up  all  hopes  of  handling  the 
money  in  the  strong  box.  if  that  was  what  they  were 
after.  The  whistle  was  given  to  call  the  band 
together  for  consultation.  They  gathered  behind 
the  shed  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  and  one  of  them 
leaned  against  the  boards  so  close  to  Ned  that  if  the 
latter  had  pushed  his  finger  through  one  of  the 
cracks  he  could  have  touched  him.  The  boy  could 
hear  their  slightest  \\hisper,  but  could  not  under 
stand  a  word  that  was  said,  for  they  talked  alto 
gether  in  Spanish.  They  quickly  decided  upon  a 
new  plan  of  operations,  and  separated  to  carry  it 
into  execution.  A  portion  of  the  band  opened  fire 
01  the  rancho  again,  and  the  others,  having  secured 
an  axe,  crept  around  to  the  opposite  side  and 
furiously  attacked  one  of  the  doors ;  but  the  tough 
oak  planks  of  which  it  was  made  resisted  the  blows 
of  the  axe  until  the  herdsmen  had  time  to  run  to  the 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  171 

other  side  of  the  building  and  drive  them  away  by 
firing  through  the  loopholes  with  their  revolvers. 
Then  the  attack  was  renewed  on  another  door  with 
the  same  result ;  finally,  the  Mexicans,  growing  iis- 
couraged,  hurled  a  volley  of  Spanish  oaths  at  the 
defenders  of  the  rancho,  which  had  about  the  same 
effect  on  them  that  their  bullets  had  on  the  walls, 
and  ran  toward  their  horses. 

Ned  kept  his  eye  on  the  thieves  while  they  were 
crossing  the  yard,  and  was  gratified  to  see  that  they 
had  not  come  off  unscathed.  Three  of  their  num 
ber  were  limping  along  with -the  assistance  of  some 
of  their  comrades,  and  a  fourth  was  being  carried  in 
a  blanket.  Whether  he  was  killed  or  badly  wounded 
Ned  could  not  tell.  He  saw  them  mount  and  ride 
away,  and  the  last  object  that  caught  his  eye  as  they 
passed  out  of  sight  was  the  stolen  horse,  prancing 
and  curveting  behind  them,  his  white  legs  showing 
plainly  in  the  moonlight. 


172  GEORGE   IN   CAMP;    OR, 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   TWO    FRIENDS. 

ff^HE  raiders  were  gone  at  last  and  so  was  the 
stolen  horse.  When  the  animal  passed  out  of 
sight  in  the  darkness,  and  the  sound  of  his  hoofs  on 
the  hard  trail  died  away  in  the  distance,  Ned  arose 
slowly  to  his  feet,  but  sat  down  again  in  much  less 
time  than  he  had  consumed  in  getting  up.  The 
intense  excitement  which  had  thus  far  kept  up  his 
strength  was  over  now,  and  he  was  too  weak  to 
stand.  He  had  never  passed  through  such  an  ordeal 
before,  and  it  was  no  wonder  that  he  was  terribly 
frightened.  He  wondered  how  he  had  lived  to  see 
the  end  of  it. 

"But  it  is  an  awful  mean  wind  that  blows  nobody 
good,"  thought  Ned,  making  another  effort  to  stand 
on  his  feet  after  he  had  rested  awhile.  "  This  one 
has  brought  good  to  me  in  that  it  has  taken  off  the 
stolen  horse.  I  thought  I  had  got  an  elephant  on 
my  hands,  and  I  am  glad  he  is  gone.  It  takes  me 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  173 

out  of  a  scrape  very  nicely.  The  Mexicans  are  the 
only  ones  who  suffered  by  this  raid.  They  didn't 
get  their  hands  on  the  safe,  and  four  of  their  number 
were  shot,  which  served  them  just " 

"Carrajo  /"  exclaimed  some  one  near  him,  in 
muffled  tones. 

Ned  looked  up  and  was  almost  ready  to  drop 
back  into  the  manger  again,  when  he  saw  a  Mexican 
standing  in  the  open  part  of  the  shed ;  but  a  second 
glance  reassured  him,  for  it  was  nobody  but  the 
cook.  The  man  was  probably  sneaking  back  to  the 
house  after  seeing  his  friends  off,  and  had  approached 
so  noiselessly  that  Ned  had  not  heard  his  footsteps. 
"I  have  learned  one  thing  to-night,"  said  the  boy, 
following  out  the  thoughts  that  were  in  his  mind, 
"and  that  is,  that  you  are  a  rascal,  Mr.  Philip." 

'*  What  are  you  doing  out  here?"  demanded  the 
Mexican,  who  was  so  amazed  that  he  could  not 
speak  immediately. 

"  I  was  treed  out  here,  and  couldn't  get  into  the 
house,"  replied  Ned.  UI  have  been  out  here  ever 
since  those  strangers  went  away,  and  I  saw  all  that 
passed  between  you  and  the  raiders.  I  wouldn't 
give  much  for  you  if  the  settlers  should  find  out 
what  you  have  been  about  to-night." 


174  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

When  Ned  had  said  this  much,  he  .paused  and 
looked  at  the  man.  He  was  sorry  he  had  spoken 
his  mind  so  freely,  for  if  he  made  Philip  angry 
there  was  no  telling  what  might  come  of  it. 

"And  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  you  if  the  set 
tlers  should  find  out  that  you  stole  that  horse," 
retorted  Philip,  after  he  had  said  something  angry 
in  Spanish. 

"  I  didn't  steal  him.  I  traded  my  own  horse  for 
him." 

"  Then  why  didn't  you  give  him  up  when  the 
owner  came  for  him  ?"  asked  the  Mexican. 

u  Well,  he's  gone  now,"  said  Ned,  who  did  not 
know  how  to  answer  this  question,  "and  the  owner  is 
welcome  to  him  if  he  can  find  him.  I  can  tell  why 
you  kept  my  secret :  You  knew  the  raiders  were 
coming  here  to-night,  and  you  intended  to  tell  them 
about  the  horse,  so  that  they  could  steal  it.  I  didn't 
know  before  that  you  were  a  thief,  but  I  have  often 
told  myself  that  you  looked  like  one." 

The  Mexican  was  on  the  point  of  replying,  and 
had  already  prefaced  the  remarks  he  intended  to 
make,  by  a  Spanish  oath,  when  the  rattling  of  a 
chain  and  the  sudden  opening  of  a  door  in  the 
rancho,  put  a  stop  to  the  conversation.  Ned  at 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  175 

once  jumped  out  of  the  manger  and  started  toward 
the  house,  and  the  Mexican,  instead  of  hiding  him 
self,  as  the  boy  thought  he  would,  followed  close 
behind  him. 

"Who's  that?"  demanded  the  herdsman,  who 
had  opened  the  door ;  and  Ned  saw  his  revolver 
glisten  in  the  moonlight,  as  the  weapon  was  raised 
and  pointed  straight  at  his  head. 

"Don't  shoot!"  he  cried,  quickly. 

"Wai,  I'll  be  dog-goned!"  exclaimed  the  herds 
man.  "  Where  have  you  two  been  ?  We  have 
been  looking  all  over  the  house  for  you,  and  we 
began  to  believe  that  the  raiders  had  carried  you 
off  with  them!" 

Ned  said  just  enough  in  reply  to  excite  the  man's 
astonishment,  but  not  enough  to  explain  what  had 
happened,  and  made  his  way  toward  his  father's 
room,  still  followed  by  the  cook.  The  latter  seemed 
to  say  by  his  actions,  that  he  intended  to  hear  all 
Ned  had  to  tell  his  father,  and  that  if  the  boy  knew 
when  he  was  well  off,  he  wouldn't  tell  too  much, 
Ned  perfectly  understood  this  silent  threat,  and 
during  the  interview  with  his  father,  whom  he 
found  in  his  office,  almost  prostrated  by  excitement 
and  fear,  was  careful  to  say  nothing  at  which  Philip 


176  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

could  take  offence.  He  said  that,  being  unable  to 
sleep,  he  had  gone  out  into  the  shed  and  stayed 
there,  with  his  horse  for  company ;  that  the  raiders 
had  appeared  so  suddenly  that  he  could  not  leach 
the  house  without  running  the  risk  of  being  cap 
tured  or  shot  by  them  ;  that  his  horse  had  called  to 
them,  and  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  turn  the  ari- 
mal  loose,  for  fear  that  he  would  lead  the  raiders  to 
his  place  of  concealment;  and  that  he  had  lain 
there  in  the  manger,  an  unwilling  witness  to  the 
first  (and  he  sincerely  hoped  it  would  be  the  last) 
fight  he  had  ever  seen  carried  on  with  firearms. 

"  I  can't  begin  to  tell  you  what  a  time  I  had  out 
there  !"  said  he,  in  conclusion.  "  I  never  had  bul 
lets  come  so  close  to  me  before !" 

"Probably  not,"  said  his  father.  "Where  were 
you  all  the  while,  Philip  ?" 

al  was  under  the  porch,  sir,"  was  the  answer; 
and  Ned,  who  would  have  been  glad  to  expose  the 
villain  then  and  there,  did  not  contradict  the  state 
ment.  "  I  didn't  have  time  to  get  into  the  house, 
so  I  concealed  myself." 

"  I  could  not  imagine  how  that  door  came  to  be 
open,"  said  Uncle  John,  with  something  like  a  sigh 
of  relief,  "  for  I  took  particular  pains  to  lock  and 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  177 

bolt  it  myself.  I  was  almost  afraid  that  there  was 
a  traitor  among  us,  and  some  of  the  herdsmen 
thought  so,  too ;  but  this  explains  everything  to  my 
satisfaction.  Philip  went  out  after  I  locked  the 
door,  and  before  he  came  back  the  raiders  arrived, 
found  the  door  open  and  thought  they  would  walk 
in  and  surprise  us.  But  Jake  surprised  them,  I 
guess  !  He  happened  to  be  awake,  and  that  was  all 
that  saved  us." 

"  Was  there  anybody  hurt  ?"  asked  Ned. 

"Not  on  our  side,  I  am  glad  to  say.  We  es 
caped  without  the  least  damage." 

After  the  various  exciting  incidents  connected 
with  the  events  of  the  night  had  been  talked  over, 
the  herdsmen,  who  had  followed  the  boy  into  the 
office,  to  listen  to  his  story,  went  out  one  by  one, 
and  finally  Ned  and  the  Mexican  followed.  The 
hall  through  which  they  passed  was  still  filled  with 
smoke;  the  walls  and  doors  were  dotted  here  and 
there  with  bullet-marks,  and  the  floor  was  littered 
with  weapons,  sombreros  and  various  other  articles, 
which  the  raiders  had  left  behind  them  in  their  hur 
ried  flight.  The  sight  of  these  things  made  Ned 
tremble  again.  The  Mexican  accompanied  him  as 

far  as  the  door  of  his  own  room,  and  when  the  latter 
12 


178  GEORGE   IN    CAMP,    OK, 

was  about  to  slam  the  door  in  his  face,  the  man  gave 
him  a  look  and  a  nod  that  were  full  of  meaning. 

"  That  fellow  means  to  make  trouble  for  me, 
sooner  or  later,"  said  the  boy  to  himself,  after  he 
had  lighted  his  lamp  and  securely  fastened  his  door. 
"  I  can  see  it  in  his  eye.  I  wish  I  had  asked  father 
to  discharge  him  long  ago,  for  I  never  did  like  him ; 
but  if  I  have  him  sent  away  now,  he  will  spread  it 
among  the  men  that  I  had  that  stolen  horse  in  my 
possession  and  wouldn't  give  him  up.  If  that  story 
ever  gets  wind  in  the  settlement,  I  don't  know  what 
will  become  of  me." 

Ned  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa — he  was  still  so 
very  nervous  and  frightened  that  he  dared  not  un 
dress  and  go  to  bed — and  thought  over  the  exciting 
adventures  which  had  been  crowded  into  the  last 
few  hours,  and  racked  his  brain  in  the  vain  hope  of 
finding  some  way  out  of  the  difficulties  he  had  got 
into.  Two  things  were  plain  to  him  :  Philip  was 
there  in  the  rancho  for  no  good  purpose,  and  he  did 
not  intend  to  expose  Ned,  unless  the  latter  said 
something  to  direct  suspicion  toward  himself.  It 
•was  humiliating,  to  say  the  least,  to  have  a  servant 
in  the  house  who  could  get  him  into  serious  trouble 
at  any  time  he  chose  to  open  his  mouth ;  but  Ned 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  179 

could  think  of  no  way  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  there 
was  no  one  to  whom  he  could  go  for  advice.  lie 
must  keep  his  own  counsel  until  Gus  Robbins 
arrived.  Ned  knew  that  his  friend  had  been  in 
many  a  scrape  himself;  that  it  was  a  very  serioua 
difficulty  indeed  out  of  which  he  could  not  work  hig 
way,  and  perhaps  Gus  could  help  him.  In  the 
meantime,  he  resolved  he  would  have  as  little  to  do 
with  the  Mexican  as  possible.  He  would  not  speak 
to  him,  or  even  look  at  him,  if  he  could  help  it,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  would  show  him  by  his  actions 
that  he  was  not  afraid  of  him. 

Having  made  up  his  mind  to  this  Ned  re-arranged 
his  pillow  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep;  but  his  brain 
was  too  active  and  his  senses  too  keenly  alive  to 
every  external  impression.  If  he  kept  his  eyes  open 
he  saw  the  raiders  as  plainly  as  he  could  have  seen 
them  if  they  had  been  there  in  his  room ;  and  if  he 
closed  his  eyes  to  shut  them  out  from  view  he  dis 
tinctly  heard  their  yells,  the  reports  of  their  revolv 
ers  and  carbines,  and  could  feel  the  sofa  vibrato 
under  his  hand  just  as  the  planks  which  formed  the 
manger  had  vibrated  when  the  bullets  passed  through 
them.  Once  or  twice  he  started  up  in  great  alarm, 
believing  that  he  heard  the  porch  creak  just  as  it  did 


180  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

when  he  saw  the  raiders  step  upon  it.  At  last  the 
creaking  sounded  in  the  hall ;  and  so  positive  was 
Ned  that  the.  thieves  had  returned  and  the  Mexican 
cook  had  let  them  into  the  house  again  that  he  took 
his  rifle  out  of  the  wardrobe  which  served  him  for  a 
closet,  put  a  cartridge  into  it  and  sat  down  on  the 
sofa,  holding  the  weapon  in  readiness  to  send  a  ball 
through  the  door  the  instant  a  hand  was  laid  upon 
the  latch. 

In  this  way  Ned  passed  the  night.  It  was  a  long 
and  dreary  one  to  him,  but  morning  came  at  last, 
and  then  Ned  mustered  up  courage  enough  to  draw 
the  curtains  and  throw  open  the  shutters.  He  felt 
perfectly  safe  now,  and  being  overcome  with  weari 
ness  he  sunk  back  upon  the  sofa  and  fell  into  a 
sound  sleep.  He  slept  until  almost  dinner-time,  and 
felt  weak  and  exhausted  when  he  got  up.  To  his 
great  surprise  no  one,  except  his  father,  had  any 
thing  to  say  about  the  fight.  The  servants,  who 
were  all  old  frontiersmen  (there  were  no  women 
about  the  house),  had  passed  through  so  many  simi 
lar  scenes  that  they  had  became  accustomed  to  them, 
and  seemed  to  think  that  they  were  hardly  worth 
talking  about.  He  found  his  father  in  the  office,  and 
his  first  words  were: 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  181 

"Well,  Ned,  the  raiders  did  us  some  damage, 
after  all.  After  we  drove  them  away  from  here  they 
went  out  and  caught  Edwards  napping,  and  we  are 
ten  thousand  dollars  poorer  than  we  were  yester 
day  !" 

Edwards  was  one  of  the  herdsmen.  His  cattle, 
numbering  over  a  thousand,  had  been  brought  in  a 
few  days  before  for  the  inspection  of  a  drover  who 
had  purchased  half  the  herd.  These  the  drover  had 
taken  to  Palos,  and  Mose,  another  herdsman  in 
Uncle  John's  employ,  had  been  sent  along  to  assist 
him.  Edwards  ought  to  have  been  well  out  of  the 
way  with  the  rest  of  the  herd  by  this  time,  but  he 
had  loitered  on  the  road  in  order  to  visit  some  of  his 
friends,  and  the  thieves  had  taken  him  off  his  guard. 

"  I  found  Edwards  here  when  I  awoke  this  morn 
ing,"  added  Uncle  John. 

"  Where  is  he  now?"  asked  Ned.  "I  should 
like  to  hear  him  tell  his  story." 

"  0,  he  had  no  story  to  tell.  He  went  into  camp 
a  few  miles  from  here,  and  early  this  morning  the 
raiders  surrounded  his  stock  and  drove  it  off. 
Edwards  saved  himself  by  jumping  on  a  horse  with 
out  saddle  or  bridle,  and  came  down  to  tell  me  about 
t.  I  have  told  him  where  our  other  herds  arc,  and 


182  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

sent  him  out  to  see  if  they  are  safe.  Ten  thousand 
dollars  is  a  large  sum  to  lose  in  one  night." 

Ned  made  no  reply.  Indeed,  he  did  not  seem  to 
take  the  least  interest  in  the  matter.  The  money 
was  no  loss  to  him,  but  it  came  out  of  the  pockets 
of  one  who  could  lose  three  times  that  amount  every 
year  and  still  have  enough  left  to  support  Uncle 
John  and  his  graceless  son  in  better  style  than  they 
had  ever  been  able  to  support  themselves. 

While  Ned  was  eating  the  breakfast  that  Philip 
had  kept  warm  for  him,  he  talked  with  his  father 
about  the  raiders  and  discussed  Gus  Robbins's 
chances  for  meeting  Mose  at  Palos.  Ned  had  given 
the  herdsman  a  description  of  his  expected  guest, 
and  had  also  taken  it  upon  himself  to  order  him  to 
stay  in  Palos  at  least  a  week  and  wait  for  Gus.  He 
hoped  that  Gus  would  be  on  his  way  to  the  rancho 
in  company  with  some  of  the  neighbors  long  before 
Mose  reached  Palos  with  his  cattle,  and  it  was  this 
hope  that  took  him  to  the  top  of  that  swell  every  day. 
It  did  not  take  him  there  on  this  particular  morn 
ing,  however,  for  he  knew  now  by  experience  that 
their  troublesome  neighbors  had  a  way  of  appearing 
when  they  were  least  expected;  and,  although  he 
had  never  heard  that  a  band  of  raiders  were  ever 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  183 

seen  in  broad  daylight,  he  thought  it  best  to  remain 
within  hailing  distance  of  the  raiicho. 

Ned's  first  care,  after  he  had  eaten  his  breakfast, 
was  to  dispose  of  the  gold-mounted  saddle  and  bridle 
which  had  come  into  his  possession  the  day  before, 
and  which  were  now  hanging  up  in  the  shed  ready 
at  any  moment  to  bear  testimony  against  him. 
Fortunately  for  him  no  one  had  had  occasion  to 
go  to  the  shed  that  morning,  and  consequently  the 
only  one  who  knew  they  were  there  was  the  Mexi 
can  cook. 

Ned  walked  out  on  the  porch,  and  after  making 
sure  that  there  was  no  one  in  sight  to  observe  his 
movements,  he  darted  into  the  shed  and  as  quickly 
darted  out  again  with  the  saddle  and  bridle  thrown 
over  his  shoulders.  He  ran  to  the  rear  of  the  shed, 
and  there  found  a  pile  of  lumber  which  had  been 
there  since  he  came  to  the  ranch e,  and  which  he 
had  never  known  to  be  disturbed.  He  pulled  the 
lumber  all  down  and  at  the  end  of  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  had  piled  it  up  again  over  the  saddle  and 
bridle,  arranging  the  shorter  boards  on  the  ends  of 
the  pile  so  that  nothing  could  be  seen. 

u  There !"  said  he,  with  a  sigh  of  satisfaction.  "I 
feel  a  great  deal  better.  Those  things  can  stay  there 


184  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

until  I  find  time  to  put  them  in  a  safer  place.  The 
next  thing  is  to  select  a  horse.  Father  told  me  that 
I  could  take  my  pick  of  the  lot." 

There  were  a  score  or  more  of  horses  in  the  cor 
ral  that  had  been  broken  to  the  saddle.  They  were 
all  fine  animals,  too,  and  it  was  a  matter  of  some 
difficulty  for  Ned  to  make  up  his  mind  which  one  he 
wanted.  He  had  grown  very  particular  during  the 
last  two  days-  Having  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  a  ride 
on  Silk  Stocking's  back,  he  knew  what  a  good  saddle 
horse  was,  and  he  was  hard  to  suit.  He  wanted  one 
that  looked  and  carried  himself  exactly  like  the  stolen 
horse,  and  he  finally  decided  that  a  small  sorrel  nag 
with  light  mane  and  tail  and  one  white  foot  ap 
proached  nearer  to  the  mark  than  any  other  horse 
in  the  corral.  Ned  rode  him  up  and  down  the  trail 
in  front  of  the  house  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  looked 
longingly  toward  the  solitary  oak  on  the  summit  of 
the  swell,  under  whose  friendly  branches  he  had 
dreamed  away  so  many  hours  while  waiting  for  his 
friend,  Gus  Bobbins.  But  the  fear  of  the  raiders 
kepi  h  m  at  home,  and  a  week  passed  away  before 
he  could  gather  courage  enough  to  venture  out  of 
eight  of  the  house. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  after  the  raid, 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  185 

one  of  the  herdsmen  told  Ned  that  the  band  of 
Rangers  who  had  pursued  the  thieves  in  the  hope 
of  overtaking  them  and  recovering  the  stolen  stock, 
had  returned  unsuccessful,  the  Mexicans  having 
made  good  their  escape  across  the  river,  taking  the 
cattle  with  them.  If  that  was  the  case,  travelling 
was  safe,  and  Ned  was  only  too  glad  to  take  his 
accustomed  gallop  again.  Of  course  breakfast  was 
late  that  morning  and  everything  bothered — it 
always  does  when  one  is  in  a  hurry  ;  but  the  horse 
was  brought  to  the  porch  at  last,  and  Ned  hastened 
into  the  house  after  his  rifle  and  silver-mounted 
riding-whip.  These  ornaments  having  been  secured, 
he  went  into  the  kitchen  after  the  lunch  which  he 
had  ordered  Philip  to  prepare  for  him,  and  while  he 
•was  putting  it  into  his  pocket,  he  heard  the  clatter 
of  a  horse's  hoofs  in  the  yard,  and  voices  in  conver 
sation.  He  ran  out  on  the  porch,  and  found  his 
father  talking  earnestly  to  a  roughly-dressed  man, 
who,  upon  closer  examination  proved  to  be  Zeke, 
George's  herdsman.  Uncle  John's  face  wore  an 
expression  of  interest,  while  Zeke's  was  gloomy 
enough.  lie  looked  and  acted  like  a  man  who  had 
met  with  some  great  misfortune. 

" 1  don't  know  whar  he  is;  more'n  the  man  in 


186  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

the  moon,"  Zeke  was  saying  when  Ned  came  out. 
"I  'sposed,  in  course,  that  I  should  find  him  here." 

"  Well,  he  isn't  here,  and  we  haven't  seen  him 
since  the  day  he  left  with  the  supplies,"  said  Uncle 
John.  "  Can't  you  tell  me  just  what  has  happened? 
I  may  be  able  to  do  something." 

"  Thar  ain't  much  of  anything  to  tell,  an'  ye 
can't  do  nothing,  either,"  replied  Zeke.  u  He  brung 
them  supplies  to  my  camp  all  right,  an'  a  few  nights 
arterwards  the  Greasers  dropped  down  on  us  an'  run 
off  the  last  hoof  we  had  to  bless  ourselves  with,  dog 
gone  'em !" 

Ned  caught  his  breath,  and  turned  his  head 
quickly  away,  for  fear  that  the  herdsman,  who  just 
then  happened  to  be  looking  his  way,  might  see  the 
expression  of  delight  and  triumph  that  came  upon  it. 

"  That's  the  best  news  I  ever  heard,"  thought  he. 
"  The  Greasers  have  cleaned  George  out  at  last 
Serves  him  right." 

"  But  we  got  'em  all  back  again,  me  an'  the  set- 
tiers  did,"  continued  Zeke. 

The  exultant  smile  faded  from  Ned's  face  as 
quickly  as  it  had  appeared.  "  That's  the  worst 
news  I  ever  heard,"  said  he  to  himself.  "George 
often  declares  that  he  is  the  luckiest  boy  in 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  187 

Texas,  and    I   believe  lie    is.     I   know  I    am    the 
pluckiest." 

u  You  got  them  all  back !"  exclaimed  Uncle 
John.  "I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  Yes,  we  did.  The  Greasers  didn't  get  awray 
with  nary  horn.  But  I  hain't  seed  nor  heared 
nothing  of  George  since  the  night  they  jumped 
down  on  us.  I  thought  mebbe  he'd  got  a  trifle 
outer  his  reckonin'  an'  come  hum  to  take  a  fresh 
start ;  so  I  brung  the  critters  nigher  in  to  wait  fur 
him.  But  seem'  as  how  he  ain't  here — good-by!" 

As  Zeke  said  this,  he  wheeled  his  horse  and  rode 
away  at  a  full  gallop,  paying  no  attention  to  the 
entreaties  and  commands  to  come  back  that  Uncle 
John  shouted  after  him.  He  was  out  of  hearing  in 
a  moment  more,  and  then  the  father  and  son  turned 
and  looked  at  each  other. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  anyhow?" 
asked  Ned,  who  had  not  been  able  to  gain  a  very 
c'ear  idea  of  the  state  of  affairs. 

"You  know  as  much  about  it  as  I  do,"  answered 
his  father.  "  George  hasn't  been  seen  since  the 
night  his  herd  was  stampeded.  That's  all." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I'm   going  to  send  a  man   to   make   inquiries 


188  GEOIIGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

among  the  neighbors.  That's  all  I  can  do;  for  1 
don't  know  where  to  look  for  him.  He  may  have 
been  killed  or  carried  off  by  the  raiders." 

Uncle  John  walked  into  the  house  with  great 
deliberation,  put  down  the  newspaper  he  had  held 
in  his  hand  during  his  conversation  with  Zeke,  and 
then  came  out  and  moved  slowly  toward  the  corral 
where  one  of  the  herdsmen  was  at  work. 

After  watching  him  for  a  few  minutes  Ned  struck 
up  a  lively  whistle,  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
away.  He  did  not  act  much  like  a  boy  who  had 
just  heard  that  his  cousin  had  been  missing  for 
days,  and  might  be  a  captive  in  the  hands  of  the 
Mexicans.  Suppose  he  was  in  George's  place ! 
Would  his  father  be  so  very  deliberate  in  his  move 
ments,  and  would  he  be  satisfied  with  sending 
jut  a  single  man  to  make  inquiries  among  the 
neighbors  ? 

Ned  seemed  to  be  in  the  best  of  spirits.  He 
kept  his  horse  in  a  full  gallop,  until  he  reached  the 
top  of  the  swell,  and  there  he  reined  him  in  very 
suddenly,  for  he  caught  sight  of  two  horsemen  on 
the  other  side.  Shading  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  he 
gazed  earnestly  at  them  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then 
started  down  the  swell  to  meet  them.  He  recog* 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  189 

nlscd  one  of  them  as  the  herdsman  who  had  been 
sent  to  assist  the  drover  in  driving  down  the  cattle 
he  had  purchased  of  Uncle  John,  and  something 
told  him  that  his  companion  could  be  none  other 
than  the  long-expected  Gus  Bobbins.  We  know 
that  it  was  Gus,  and  \ve  have  already  described  the 
meeting  that  took  place  between  the  two  boys.  We 
know,  too,  that  Mose  rode  on  to  the  rancho,  to 
report  his  arrival  to  his  employer,  and  that  the  boys 
followed  him  leisurely,  talking  every  step  of  the  way. 

"I  say,  Ned,"  said  Gus,  suddenly,  "you  live  in 
an  awful  lonesome  place,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Ned;  "it  is  very  lonely,  and 
that  is  one  reason  why  I  wanted  you  to  come  down 
here." 

"There  is  plenty  of  hunting,  I  suppose,"  con 
tinued  Gus;  "but  that  is  something  I  don't  know 
much  about.     I  can  handle  a  yard-stick  better  than 
I  can  handle  a  gun.     Is  there  any  fishing,  or  are 
there  any  good  fellows  to  run  with?" 

"  I  haven't  heard  of  anybody  going  fishing  since 
I  have  been  here ;  and  as  for  the  fellows,  I  don't 
know  a  boy  in  the  neighborhood." 

"  Why,  what  in  the  world  do  you  do  to  pass  the 
time  away  ?" 


190  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  I  don't  do  anything.  I  just  keep  still  and  let 
it  pass  itself  away." 

"  That's  a  jolly  way  to  live  !"  said  Gus.  "  It's 
better  than  standing  behind  a  counter  all  day,  hand 
ling  over  goods  for  people  who  don't  want  anything, 
and  who,  after  they  have  tired  you  out,  spend  five 
cents  for  a  spool  of  thread,  and  think  they  have 
paid  you  for  the  trouble  they  have  caused  you. 
But,  Ned,  we  can't  get  into  any  scrapes  here,  can 
we?" 

"  Can't  we,  though  !"  exclaimed  Ned.  "  I  know 
a  story  worth  two  of  that.  Why,  boy,  I  am  in  a 
worse  scrape  to-day  than  you  ever  dreamed  of,  and 
I  got  into  it  just  as  easy !  It  was  no  trouble  at 
all." 

"You  have  been  talking  too  much,"  said  Gus, 
who  remembered  that  his  friend  had  more  than 
once  got  himself  into  serious  trouble  by  the  too 
free  use  of  his  tongue. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  said  Ned,  quickly.  "I  have 
been  talking  too  little ;  that's  the  trouble.  But  it 
is  a  long  story,  and  I  must  take  a  spare  half  hour 
in  which  to  tell  it  to  you ;  then  I  want  you  to  give 
me  your  advice,  for  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"I  guess  I  can  help  you,   if  anybody  can.     I 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  101 

have  helped  you  out  of  more  than  one  close  corner, 
haven't  I  ?  Do  you  remember  how  we  used  to  go 
about  Foxboro'  of  nights,  changing  gates  and  signs, 
and  stretching  ropes  across  the  walk  to  trip  the  peo 
ple  who  passed  by  ?" 

"  I  haven't  forgotten.  Are  you  up  to  such 
things  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  or  anything  else  that  has  fun  in  it !" 

"  All  right.  Some  day,  when  you  are  in  just 
the  right  humor  for  it,  I'll  tell  you  how  you  can  get 
yourself  into  as  lively  a  mess  as  you  ever  heard 
of — something  that  will  set  the  whole  settlement  in 
a  blaze." 

"  I'm  your  man,  '  said  Gus,  readily.  "  If  one  is 
going  to  raise  a  row,  let  him  raise  a  big  one,  while 
he  is  about  it.  That's  what  I  say !" 

The  five  miles  that  lay  between  the  swell  and  the 
rancho  had  never  seemed  so  short  to  Ned  as  they 
did  that  day.  He  and  Gus  had  so  much  to  talk 
about  that  they  took  no  note  of  time,  and  their  ride 
was  ended  almost  before  they  knew  it.  When  they 
reached  the  rancho,  they  found  Uncle  John  stand 
ing  on  the  porch,  waiting  for  them. 


192 


CHAPTER  XL 

GUS    HEARS    FROM    HOME. 

/"^l  US  spent  the  two  days  following  his  arrival  at 
the  rancho  in  resting;  and  even  at  the  end  of 
that  time  he  had  not  fully  recovered  from  the  effects 
of  his  long,  hard  ride  on  horseback.  He  and  Ned 
passed  the  time  in  roaming  about  the  house  and 
grounds,  and  at  every  turn  Gus  found  something  to 
interest  him.  The  rancho  and  everything  about  it, 
Uncle  John's  manner  of  living,  the  appearance,  cus 
toms  and  language  of  the  men  he  met  every  day — 
all  these  were  new  to  Gus,  who  could  have  enjoyed 
himself  hugely  now  if  it  had  not  been  for  two  dis 
agreeable  reflections  which  constantly  intruded  upon 
him  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do  to  keep  them  out  of 
his  mind.  There  were  cattle-thieves  in  that  country 
who  made  a  practice  of  shooting  everybody  who 
came  in  their  way,  and  they  had  been  in  that  very 
house  not  a  great  while  ago.  They  might  come 
again  at  any  moment,  and  there  might  be  another 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  193 

fight — and  Gus  did  not  like  to  think  of  that.  He 
would  have  been  safer  in  his  father's  store  than  he 
was  in  that  country,  but  would  he  ever  be  permitted 
to  return  to  that  store  after  what  he  had  done?  On 
the  whole  he  was  sorry  that  he  had  come  to  Texas, 
arid  Ned  was  almost  sorry  that  he  had  invited  him. 
for  Gus  didn't  act  and  talk  like  the  boy  he  had 
known  in  Foxboro1.  He  was  not  so  jolly  and  full 
of  life  as  he  used  to  be. 

Mr.  Ackerman  never  asked  the  visitor  if  he  had 
left  home  with  his  father's  full  and  free  consent. 
He,  no  doubt,  took  it  for  granted  that  Gus  had 
talked  the  matter  over  with  Mr.  Robbins,  and  so 
said  nothing  about  it.  This  relieved  Ned  of  a  bur 
den  of  anxiety,  and  another  thing  that  pleased  him 
was  the  fact  that  Gus  never  asked  any  questions  con 
cerning  the  hunting  adventure  which  Ned  had  so 
graphically  described  in  his  first  letter/ 

During  these  two  days  nothing  was  heard  of  the 
missing  George.  The  herdsman  who  had  been  sent 
out  to  make  inquiries  among  the  neighbors  brought 
back  the  information  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  find 
any  traces  of  him,  and  that  seemed  to  settle  the  mat 
ter,  so  far  as  Uncle  John  and  Ned  were  concerned. 
The  two  boys  seldom  spoke  of  him.  They  had  more 
13 


194  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

important  mutters  to  occupy  their  attention.  They 
talked  over  old  times  to  their  hearts'  content,  and 
Ned  told  Gus  everything  of  interest  that  had  hap 
pened  to  him  since  he  came  to  Texas.  The  story 
of  the  stolen  horse  and  the  description  of  Philip's 
strange  conduct  on  the  night  of  the  fight  were  so 
incredible  that  Gus  wouldn't  believe  a  word  until  he 
had  seen  the  bullet  holes  in  the  manger  and  the 
lumber  pile  behind  the  shed  had  been  torn  down  so 
that  he  could  see  the  gold-mounted  saddle  and  bridle. 
Then  he  looked  bewildered,  and,  contrary  to  Ned's 
expectation,  could  suggest  nothing  more  than  he  had 
already  thought  of  himself. 

"You  ought  to  have  given  the  horse  up  when  the 
owner  came  for  him,"  said  he.  "You  would  have 
made  something  handsome  by  it  probably." 

"I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do,"  replied  Ned. 
"  But  seeing  I  didn't  do  it,  how  am  I  going  to  get 
myself  out  of  the  scrape?" 

"  I  don't  see  that  you  are  in  any  scrape.  How 
far  does  the  man  who  owns  the  horse  live  from 
here?" 

"  Fifty  or  sixty  miles." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  him  before  that  night  ?" 

"  I  never  did." 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  195 

"Well,  comfort  yourself  with  the  thought  that 
you  may  never  see  him  again.  There's  nothing  to 
bring  him  back  here." 

"  0,  yes  there  is.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  he  and 
his  companion  rode  off  two  of  father's  horses  ?  Of 
course  they  must  bring  them  back.  It  isn't  a  safe 
piece  of  business  in  this  country,  I  tell  you,  for  a 
man  to  keep  a  horse  that  doesn't  belong  to  him. 
The  people  won't  allow  it." 

"  And  you  knew  this  all  the  while,  and  yet  held 
fast  to  that  stolen  horse !"  said  Gus. 

"Now,  look  here,"  exclaimed  Ned,  angrily,  "I 
know  that  "I  was  a  blockhead.  I  was  bound  to 
keep  the  horse,  and  didn't  stop  to  think  of  the  con 
sequences.  When  I  had  a  chance  to  give  him  up  I 
did  not  dare  do  it,  for  fear  that  the  owner  would 
do  something  to  me  before  I  could  explain  matters 
to  him." 

"Well,  the  horse  is  gone  now,  and  you  are  all 
right.  If  you  are  afraid  to  meet  those  men,  keep 
your  eyes  open  and  dig  out  when  they  come  back 
with  your  father's  horses." 

"  But  suppose  that  while  I  am  gone  Philip  should 
take  it  into  his  head  to  tell  them  that  I  had  the 


196  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

horse  in  my  possession  when  they  were  here  before, 
and  wouldn't  give  him  up  ?" 

"If  he  does  that,  tell  your  father  that  he  was  the 
one  who  let  the  raiders  into  the  house." 

"Now,  what  earthly  good  would  that  do  rne  ? 
Would  it  get  me  out  of  the  scrape  ?" 

"No;  but  you  would  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  you  had  repaid  Philip  by  getting  him 
into  just  as  much  trouble  as  he  got  you  into." 

"But  that  isn't  what  I  want.  I  want  to  clear 
myself,  and  I  don't  know  how  to  do  it," 

"  I  don't  know  either.  You'll  have  to  trust  to  luck." 

"  I'd  rather  trust  to  anything  else  in  the  world. 
Luck  never  served  me  a  good  turn  yet." 

"  You  said  your  father  discharged  the  old  cook 
because  you  asked  him,  didn't  you  ?  Very  well ; 
ask  him  to  discharge  Philip.  You  had  better  get 
him  away  from  here  as  soon  as  you  can.  I  judge 
from  what  you  say,  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  have  that  safe  in  your  father's  office,  and  the  first 
thing  you  know  he'll  bring  men  enough  here  to  take 
it.  He's  not  a  safe  person  to  have  about." 

Ned  was  very  well  aware  of  that  fact,  but  still  he 
could  see  no  way  of  getting  rid  of  him  without  ren 
dering  himself  liable  to  exposure,  and  neither  could 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  197 

Gus.  As  often  as  they  discussed  the  matter,  they 
arrived  at  this  conclusion :  that  Philip  was  there  ic 
the  rancho  ;  that  he  meant  to  stay  there  ;  and  that 
Ned  could  not  have  him  discharged  without  getting 
himself  into  serious  trouble.  One  would  suppose, 
that  while  this  state  of  aifairs  continued,  there 
would  be  no  such  thing  as  pleasure  for  Ned.  He 
never  did  see  a  moment's  peace  while  he  was  awake, 
but  those  around  him  did  not  know  it.  He  seemed 
to  be  enjoying  himself  to  the  fullest  extent. 

On  the  third  day,  Gus  began  to  feel  a  little  more 
like  himself,  and  when  Ned  proposed  a  short  gallop 
to  get  up  an  appetite  for  dinner,  the  visitor  did  not" 
object.  The  first  thing  was  to  select  a  gentle  horse 
for  his  use ;  for  the  one  he  had  ridden  from  Palos 
was  a  borrowed  animal,  and  must  be  returned  in 
good  order,  at  the  very  first  opportunity.  Ned 
made  the  selection  for  him,  and  then  went  with  him 
into  the  store-room  to  pick  out  a  saddle  and  bridle. 
As  they  came  out  into  the  hall,  a  horseman  drew  up 
beside  the  porch  long  enough  to  throw  a  letter  at 
them,  after  which  he  turned  about  and  galloped 
back  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had  come. 
This  was  the  only  way  in  which  the  neighboring 
ranchmen  and  farmers  would  have  anything  to  do 


198  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OK, 

with  Uncle  John.  They  inquired  for  his  mail  when 
they  went  to  Palos,  and  brought  it  to  him,  if  there 
chanced  to  be  any,  but  they  did  it  simply  as  an  act 
of  courtesy,  just  as  they  had  banded  together  and 
pursue::  the  raiders  in  the  hope  of  recovering  the 
stock  they  had  stolen  from  him.  They  did  not  ask 
Uncle  John  to  join  them  in  the  pursuit,  and  when 
they  brought  him  his  mail  they  never  visited  with 
him  or  stopped  to  hold  conversation,  as  they  did 
with  their  other  neighbors. 

Gus  picked  up  the  letter  and  handed  it  to  Ned, 
who,  after  glancing  at  the  name  on  the  envelope 
passed  it  back  to  his  companion.  The  letter  was 
addressed  to  him  in  care  of  Uncle  John.  The  vis 
itor's  face  grew  red  and  pale  by  turns,  as  he  looked 
at  his  father's  well-known  writing. 

"Sam  Holmes  has  blowed  the  whole  business!" 
he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

"Well,  you  expected  it,  didn't  you?"  returned 
Ned.  "What  do  you  care  for  Sam  Holmes  now? 
You  are  out  of  his  reach  and  your  father's  too* 
Why  don't  you  read  the  letter?" 

Gus  didn't  want  to  read  it — that  was  the  reason. 
It  took  him  by  surprise,  for  it  was  something  he  did 
not  expect  to  receive.  In  accordance  with  Ned's 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  199 

suggestion,  however,  he  tore  open  the  envelope,  and 
ran  his  eye  hastily  over  the  few  lines  the  letter  con 
tained. 

"  Well,  I  call  that  pretty  cool !"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Any  objections  to  telling  what  they  say?" 
asked  Ned. 

"  None  whatever.  Read  it  for  yourself,  and  read 
it  aloud,  so  that  I  may  be  sure  I  have  made  no 
mistake." 

Ned  took  the  letter  and  read  as  follows  : — 

"  MY  DEAR  BOY  : — I  learn  that  you  have  gone 
to  Texas,  to  visit  Ned  Ackerman.  I  am  sorry  you 
thought  it  best  to  leave  us  without  saying  good-by, 
for  if  we  had  known  that  you  were  resolved  to  go, 
we  should  have  given  you  all  the  aid  in  our  power. 
I  am  sorry,  too,  that  you  went  when  you  did,  for 
we  had  anticipated  much  pleasure  in  your  company 
during  our  summer's  visit  to  the  trout  streams  of 
the  Adirondacks.  If  you  think  you  would  like  to 
come  home  when  your  visit  is  ended,  I  will  send  you 
the  necessary  funds.  I  do  not  suppose  Mr.  Acker 
man  will  care  to  pay  your  expenses  both  ways. 
Your  mother  and  I  would  be  glad  to  hear  from  you 
as  often  as  you  may  feel  in  the  humor  to  write.  I 
have  paid  all  your  debts." 


200  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

Ned  was  very  much  astonished,  and  went  over 
the  letter  twice,  to  make  sure  that  he  had  read  it 
aright. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it?"  demanded  Gus. 

"It  is  cool,  that's  a  fact,"  answered  Ned,  who 
did  not  know  what  else  to  say  ;  "  very  cool !" 

"It's — it's  impudent!"  exclaimed  Gus,  angrily ; 
"  downright  insulting  !  Now,  isn't  he  a  pretty 
father  for  a  fellow  to  have !"  he  added,  snatching 
the  letter  from  Ned's  hand.  "Just  listen  to  this: 
4  If  we  had  known  that  you  were  resolved  to  go,  we 
should  have  given  you  all  the  aid  in  our  power ;' 
and  lif  you  think  you  would  like  to  come  home 
when  your  visit  is  ended !'  He  might  as  well  say 
that  if  I  don't  want  to  return,  I  can  stay  away  and 
welcome !" 

"  It  seems  that  the  rest  of  them  are  going  to  the 
Adirondacks,"  said  Ned.  "You  know  you  always 
wanted  to  go  there." 

"  That's  just  what  provokes  me !"  cried  Gus, 
thrashing  his  boots  angrily  with  his  riding-whip, 
as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  porch.  "  Of  course, 
I  always  wanted  to  go  there.  I  have  tried  more 
than  once  to  induce  father  to  consent,  but  he 
wouldn't  do  it.  He  treated  me  like  a  dog  and 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  201 

drove  me  away  from  home,  and  now  he  coolly 
informs  me  that  he's  going  trout-fishing  this  sum 
mer  !  I  hope  he'll  catch  a  whale,  and  that  the 
whale  will  smash  his  old  boat  into  kindling-wood, 
and  tumble  him  out  into  the  water !" 

This  remark  showed  Gus  to  be  possessed  of  so 
mean  and  paltry  a  spirit,  and  the  wish  expressed  in 
it  was  so  perfectly  ridiculous,  that  Ned  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh.  He  could  not  help  it.  Gus  looked 
sharply  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  continued  his 
walk  up  and  down  the  porch,  whipping  his  boots  at 
every  step.  He  was  greatly  amazed,  as  every 
young  fellow  is,  when  he  learns  for  the  first  time 
that  he  is  not  an  absolute  necessity,  and  that  the 
world  will  wag  just  as  well  without  him  as  it  will 
with  him.  Gus  thought,  of  course,  that  his  parents 
were  very  much  distressed  over  what  he  had  done, 
and  that  the  letter  was  written  to  urge  him  to 
return  at  once  and  relieve  their  suspense ;  but, 
instead  of  that,  his  father  seemed  to  take  the  matter 
very  coolly,  and  did  not  even  give  up  his  contem 
plated  -rip  to  the  mountains,  because  Gus  was  not 
there  to  take  part  in  it. 

"I'll  never  go  back  !"  declared  the  boy,  flourish 
ing  his  whip  in  the  air.  "  I'll  stay  here  until  you 


202  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

get  tired  of  keeping  me,  and  then  I'll  go  to  work  at 
something — I  don't  care  what  it  is — so  long  as  I 
don't  have  to  sell  dry-goods!" 

"I  wish  that  letter  had  been  lost  on  the  way," 
said  Ned,  "  for  it  has  taken  all  the  spirit  out  of  you. 
You  were  bright  and  lively  this  morning,  and  were 
beginning  to  act  like  the  Gus  Bobbins  I  used  to 
know  in  Foxboro'." 

"I'm  the  same  fellow  now!"  said  Gus,  tearing 
the  letter  into  the  smallest  possible  fragments,  and 
throwing  them  over  the  railing  for  the  wind  to 
carry  away.  "  Let's  go  somewhere  and  do  some 
thing  !" 

The  boys  mounted  their  horses,  which  were 
standing,  saddled  and  bridled,  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  and  rode  away ;  but  the  gloom  which  had 
been  thrown  over  their  spirits  went  with  them,  and 
the  letter  was  the  only  thing  they  could  talk  about. 
Gus  could  not  forget  that  trouting  excursion  to  the 
Adirondacks.  He  had  longed  and  hoped  for  that  as 
he  had  never  longed  and  hoped  for  anything  else, 
and  it  was  very  provoking  to  know  that  it  was  to 
take  place  now,  after  he  had  put  it  out  of  his  power 
to  enjoy  it.  He  would  have  done  a  year's  hard 
work  in  the  store  and  given  up  his  Texas  scheme 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  203 

for  it  very  gladly.  He  didn't  care  for  horses,  guns 
or  dogs ;  but  he  was  an  enthusiastic  fisherman,  and 
nothing  suited  him  better  than  to  get  away  by  him 
self,  and  wander  up  and  down  the  banks  of  some 
retired  stream,  in  which  the  pools  were  deep  and 
the  speckled  beauties  abundant.  But  all  his  chances 
for  such  sport  were  gone  now — lost,  too,  by  a  deli 
berate  act  of  his  own — and  Gus  felt  angry  at  him 
self  when  he  thought  about  it. 

"Then  don't  think  about  it  at  all,"  said  Ned,  as 
Gus  gave  utterance  to  the  thoughts  that  were  pass 
ing  through  his  mind.  "Think  about  something 
more  agreeable.  Give  up  all  idea  of  ever  going 
back  toFoxboro'!" 

"0,  I  have  given  it  up!"  said  Gus.  "But  it 
provokes  me  almost  beyond  measure  when  I 
think " 

He  finished  the  sentence  by  shaking  his  riding- 
whip  in  the  air. 

"  That  they  can  be  happy  and  lay  plans  for  their 
amusement  when  you  are  not  there ;  eh,  Gus  ?" 
said  Ned.  "  I  know  right  where  the  shoe  pinches. 
Stay  here,  and  we'll  make  money  by  raising  wheat. 
Do  you  see  that  field  over  there  ?  That's  mine!" 

"  I  saw  it  some  time  ago,"  answered  Gus,  "  but  I 


204  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR 

thought  it  was  a  pasture  that  somebody  had  fenced 
in.  I  see  some  cattle  in  it." 

<k  In  my  wheat  field!"  cried  Ned,  with  great  indig 
nation.  "Where?  So  do  I!"  he  added,  after  he 
had  run  his  eye  along  the  fence. 

Ned  put  his  horse  into  a  gallop  and  rode  toward 
the  field  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  his  companion  fol 
lowing  closely  behind.  As  they  drew  nearer  they 
saw  that  there  was  a  wide  gap  in  the  fence,  that  the 
field  looked  as  though  somebody's  cattle  had  used  it 
regularly  for  a  pasture,  and  that  some  of  the  animals 
that  had  caused  the  mischief  were  in  the  enclosure 
now.  As  they  drew  rein  at  the  gap  and  looked  over 
the  desolated  field  the  cattle  shook  their  heads  as  if 
they  were  indignant  at  the  interruption,  and  went 
off  toward  the  opposite  fence  in  a  gallop. 

"What  wild-looking  fellows!"  exclaimed  Gus. 
"  I  should  think  you  would  be  afraid  to  go  near 
them." 

"  They  are  wild,  too,"  replied  Ned.  "  They'd 
just  as  soon  go  for  us  as  not  if  we  were  on  foot,  but 
they'll  not  trouble  us  so  long  as  we  are  in  the  saddle. 
But  just  look  at  this  wheat!  It's  ruined,  isn't  it  ?" 

"I  am  no  farmer,"  returned  his  companion. 

"  It   doesn't  need  a   farmer  to  tell  whether   or 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  205 

not  there  is  any  wheat  here,  does  it?"  cried  Ned 
angrily. 

"  Can't  you  make  the  man  who  owns  the  cattle 
pay  damages  ?" 

"No;  you  can't  collect  a  cent.  That  thing  has 
been  tried." 

"Then  shoot  the  cattle!" 

"I'd  do  it  in  a  minute  if  I  wasn't  afraid.  You 
remember  the  story  of  that  neighborhood  row  I  told 
you  last  night,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  if  I  were  in  your  place  I'd  raise 
another.  There's  nobody  in  sight,  and  how  is  the 
owner  of  the  cattle  going  to  know  who  did  the 
shooting  ?  Knock  one  of  'em  over !  I  dare  you 
to  do  it!" 

Ned  hesitated.  He  had  talked  bravely  enough, 
when  in  the  presence  of  his  cousin,  about  doing  this 
very  thing,  but  since  that  time  he  had  seen  a  fight, 
had  heard  the  reports  of  fire-arms  and  the  yells  of 
excited  and  angry  men,  and  thought  he  had  some 
faint  conception  of  the  scenes  that  had  been  enacted 
during  that  neighborhood  row,  and  which  would,  no 
doubt,  be  repeated  if  another  should  arise.  But 
here  was  his  fine  field  of  wheat  so  nearly  destroyed 
that  it  would  not  pay  for  the  harvesting ;  within 


206  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR. 

easy  rifle  shot  of  him  were  some  of  the  cattle  which 
had  done  the  mischief  and  which  probably  belonged 
to  one  of  the  neighbors  who  wouldn't  visit  with  him 
or  his  father  because  they  wore  good  clothes  and 
claimed  to  be  gentlemen ;  and  there  was  no  one  in 
sight. 

"  Knock  one  of  them  over,"  repeated  Gus,  "and 
perhaps  it  will  teach  their  owner  to  keep  his  stock 
out  of  the  way  of  your  field,  the  next  time  you  plant 
wheat  in  it.  Hand  me  your  gun,  and  I'll  show  you 
that  I  am  Gus  Robbins  yet,  and  not  afraid  to  do 
anything." 

The  boy  leaned  forward  in  his  saddle  as  he  said 
this,  and  taking  the  rifle  out  of  his  friend's  grasp, 
rode  toward  the  cattle  (there  were  probably  a  dozen 
of  them  in  all)  which  were  dashing  along  the  fence 
and  trampling  down  the  wheat  that  had  escaped 
destruction  during  their  former  raids.  As  Gus 
approached  them,  they  charged  in  a  body  in  the 
direction  of  the  gap ;  but  instead  of  going  through 
if  they  ran  on  by,  kicking  up  their  heels  and  shak 
ing  their  heads  as  if  they  enjoyed  the  sport.  While 
Ned  galloped  through  the  field  to  head  them  off, 
Gus  dismounted,  and  taking  his  stand  near  the  gap, 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  207 

cocked  the  rifle  in  readiness  to  shoot  one  of  the  herd 
the  next  time  they  went  by. 

Ned  succeeded  in  turning  the  cattle  after  a  short 
race,  and,  as  before,  they  took  no  notice  of  the  gap, 
but  dashed  by  it  and  started  for  another  gallop 
around  the  field.  At  that  moment  the  rifle  cracked, 
and  one  of  the  finest  steers  in  the  herd  threw  his 
head  and  tail  higher  in  the  air,  galloped  faster  for  a 
short  distance,  then  sank  to  his  knees  and  rolled 
over  on  his  side.  By  the  merest  chance,  Gus  had 
sent  a  bullet  smaller  than  a  buckshot  into  some  vital 
part,  and  there  was  one  less  steer  in  somebody's 
herd  to  break  down  fences  and  destroy  wheat  crops. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  cried  Gus,  in 
great  glee. 

"  It  was  a  splendid  shot,"  replied  Ned,  who  just 
then  rode  up  and  extended  his  hand  for  tlie  rifle. 
aYou  did  it,  didn't  you?  Since  we  have  begun  the 
work,  we'll  do  it  up  in  shape.  If  they  won't  go  out 
they  can  stay  in ;  but  they'll  stay  dead  !" 

The  horse  that  Gus  rode,  having  been  broken  to 
stand  fire,  was  not  at  all  alarmed  by  the  report  of 
the  rifle.  He  allowed  the  boy  to  catch  and  mount 
him  again,  and  by  the  time  he  was  fairly  in  the 
saddle,  Ned  had  placed  a  fresh  cartridge  in  his  rifle., 


208  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"You  head  them  off  and  drive  them  back,"  said  he, 
"and  I'll  wait  here  at  the  gap  to  salute  them  as 
they  go  by." 

In  accordance  with  this  request  Gus  rode  off,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  herd  came  dashing  along  the 
fence  again.  They  must  have  been  growing  tired 
of  the  sport  by  this  time,  for  they  headed  straight 
for  the  gap,  and  all  got  through ;  but  one  of  them 
carried  a  bullet  somewhere  in  his  body,  the  effects 
of  which  very  soon  became  apparent.  The  rest  of 
the  herd  began  to  leave  him  behind,  and  when  he 
followed  them  over  a  ridge,  which  lay  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  field,  he  was  staggering 
about  as  if  he  could  scarcely  keep  his  feet. 

While  the  work  of  driving  the  cattle  out  of  the 
field  was  in  progress,  a  horseman  appeared  on  the 
ridge  of  which  we  have  spoken,  riding  slowly  along, 
with  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  ground,  as  if  he  were 
following  a  trail.  Just  as  he  reached  the  top,  he 
heard  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  looked  up  to  discover 
that  the  cattle  of  which  he  was  in  search,  were  run 
ning  about  a  wheat  field,  and  that  two  persons  were 
engaged  in  shooting  them  down.  One  of  the  cattle 
fell  just  as  he  raised  his  eyes.  When  he  saw  this, 
he  placed  his  hand  on  one  of  the  revolvers  he  car- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  209 

riel  in  his  belt,  and  seemed  on  the  point  of  dashing 
forward  to  take  satisfaction  for  the  loss  he  had  sus 
tained  ;  but  he  evidently  thought  better  of  it  a 
moment  later,  for  he  backed  his  horse  dowri  the 
swell  until  nothing  but  his  own  head  could  be  seen 
over  it,  and  there  he  sat  and  saw  all  that  Ned  and 
Gus  did.  When  the  wounded  steer  came  over  the 
swell,  staggering  from  the  effects  of  the  bullet  Ned 
had  shot  into  him,  the  man  shook  his  clenched  hand 
in  the  direction  of  the  wheat  field,  muttered  some 
thing  to  himself,  and  galloped  off  in  pursuit  of  the 
uninjured  cattle,  leaving  the  wounded  one  to  take 
care  of  himself. 

"  There !"  exclaimed  Ned,  when  the  laggard  of 
the  drove  had  disappeared  over  the  swell,  "it's  done, 
and  I  am  glad  of  it.  If  the  owner  of  those  cattle 
finds  out  that  we  did  it  and  has  anything  to  say 
about  it,  I  shall  tell  him  that  this  is  my  land — it 
may  be  mine  some  day,  you  know,  and  before  long, 
too — and  that  no  cattle  except  my  own  have  any 
right  on  it." 

"  I  wish  that  steer  had  got  over  the  fence  before 
he  did,"  said  Gus. 

The  boys  seemed  to  be  highly  elated  over  what 

they  had  done.     They  had  performed  the  same  feat 
14 


210  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

which,  not  so  very  many  months  ago,  had  set  the 
whole  settlement  together  by  the  ears,  and  no  one 
was  the  wiser  for  it.  Of  course  some  rancheman 
would  some  day  find  out  that  one  of  his  fattest  steers 
had  been  killed  and  another  badly  wrounded,  but  how 
was  he  going  to  find  out  who  did  the  shooting  ? 
Ned  fully  expected  that  there  would  be  trouble 
about  it ;  that  there  would  be  threats  and  inquiries 
made,  and  that  he  and  Gus,  being  safe  from  dis 
covery,  would  have  many  a  hearty  laugh  in  secret 
over  the  storm  they  had  raised. 

"Remember  one  thing,"  said  he.  "No  matter 
what  is  said  or  done,  we  don't  know  anything  about 
it.  They  can't  crowd  us  into  a  corner  tight  enough 
to  make  us  own  up.  That  would  only  make  matters 
worse." 

Gus  readily  agreed  to  this,  and  the  boys  shook 
hands  on  it.  In  order  to  make  assurance  doubly 
sure  they  rode  around  the  rancho  and  approached 
it,  just  at  dark,  from  a  direction  opposite  to  that 
they  had  taken  when  they  rode  away  from  it  in  the 
morning.  When  the  events  of  the  afternoon  became 
known  nobody  could  fasten  the  guilt  upon  them  by 
saying  that  they  had  been  seen  coming  from  the 
direction  of  the  wheat  field.  They  found  supper 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  211 

waiting  for  them,  and  when  they  had  eaten  it  they 
went  into  the  office  to  spend  the  evening  in  reading 
and  conversation. 

While  they  were  thus  engaged  inside  the  house,  a 
proceeding  which  looks  strange  at  the  first  glance, 
but  which  will  be  plain  enough  when  all  the  circum 
stances  connected  with  it  are  known,  was  going  on 
outside  of  it.  A  horseman,  who  was  riding  rapidly 
along  the  road  toward  the  rancho,  turned  off  just 
before  he  reached  it,  and  made  his  way  to  the  corral 
that  was  located  a  short  distance  to  the  right  of  the 
shed  in  which  Ned  had  taken  refuge  on  the  night 
of  the  fight.  He  stopped  in  front  of  the  gate  and 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  disappointment  when  he 
found  that  it  was  secured  by  a  heavy  padlock. 
After  looking  about  him  for  a  moment,  as  if  he 
were  turning  some  problem  over  in  his  mind,  he 
dismounted,  pulled  the  bridle  over  his  horse's  head 
and  hung  it  upon  the  horn  of  the  saddle;  where 
upon  the  animal  turned  and  galloped  toward  a 
watering-trough  a  short  distance  away,  where  ho 
was  joined  by  a  small,  dark-colored  mule  which  had 
followed  the  horseman  down  the  trail.  The  horse 
man  himself  moved  toward  the  house,  pausing  every 
now  and  then  to  listen  and  reconnoiter  the  ground 


212  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

before  him,  and  presently  reached  the  steps  leading 
to  the  porch.  These  he  mounted  with  cautious 
tread,  and  was  about  to  place  his  hand  upon  the 
door  when  it  was  suddenly  opened  from  the  inside, 
a  flood  of  light  streamed  out  into  the  darkness,  and 
the  horseman  was  confronted  by  a  stalwart  herds 
man  who  started  back  in  surprise  at  the  sight  of 
him. 

Arresting  by  a  hasty  gesture  the  cry  of  amaze 
ment  that  arose  to  the  herdsman's  lips,  the  visitor 
stepped  into  the  hall,  and,  closing  the  door  behind 
him,  uttered  a  few  short,  quick  sentences  in  a  low 
tone  of  voice  which  the  other  received  with  subdued 
ejaculations  of  wonder.  When  he  ceased  speaking 
the  herdsman  hastened  away,  and  the  visitor,  who 
seemed  to  be  perfectly  familiar  with  the  internal 
arrangements  of  the  house,  moved  quickly  along  the 
hall,  turning  several  corners,  and  finally  opening 
a  door  which  gave  entrance  into  Mr.  Ackerman's 
office. 

There  was  a  happy  party  gathered  in  that  office, 
if  one  might  judge  by  the  ringing  peal  of  laughter 
which  echoed  through  the  hall,  when  the  door  was 
opened;  but  it  was  quickly  checked  at  the  sight  of 
the  boy  who  entered  as  though  he  had  a  perfect 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  213 

right  tc  be  there,  and  whose  appearance  was  so  sud 
den  and  unexpected  that  it  brought  two  of  the  three 
persons  in  the  room  to  their  feet  in  an  instant. 

"Why,  George!"  they  both  cried  in  a  breath — 
and  a  quick  ear  would  have  discovered  that  there 
was  more  surprise  than  cordiality  in  their  tones — 
"  Is  this  you  ?  Where  in  the  world  have  you  been 
so  long?  We  have  been  worried  to  death  about 
you!" 

"  Yes  it  is  I,"  answered  George  Ackerman,  for  he 
it  was.  "  I  have  come  back  safe  and  sound,  and 
that  is  all  I  can  say  to  you  now  about  myself.  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  about  yourselves,  and  especially 
to  you  Ned.  By  the  way,  I  suppose  this  is  the 
friend  from  Foxboro'  whom  you  have  so  long  been 
expecting." 

Ned  replied  that  it  was,  but  he  forgot  to  introduce 
the  two  boys  to  each  other,  and  so  did  Uncle  John. 
There  was  something  about  George  that  made  them 
forget  it.  When  they  came  to  look  at  him  they  saw 
that  he  was  very  much  excited,  and  that  his  face 
wore  an  expression  they  had  never  seen  there  before. 
They  could  not  tell  whether  he  was  frightened  or 
troubled. 

"Why,  George !"  exclaimed  Uncle  John,  in  some 


214 

alarm.  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  Any  bad  news  ? 
Are  the  Indians  or  Mexicans " 

"  Yes,  I  have  bad  news,"  interrupted  George, 
almost  impatiently,  "and  but  little  time  to  tell  it 
in.  Ned,  you  and  your  friend  must  pack  up  and 
leave  this  rancho,  and  this  county,  too,  without  the 
loss  of  an  hour's  time.  You  are  in  danger,  and  I 
have  placed  myself  in  danger  by  coming  here  to  tell 
you  of  it !" 

The  boy's  words  produced  the  utmost  surprise 
and  consternation  among  those  who  listened  to  them. 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  215 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A    NARROW    ESCAPE. 

EORGE  found  his  herdsman  eager  for  news 
from  the  settlement,  as  he  always  was,  but  he 
had  nothing  to  tell  him  that  was  very  interesting. 
He  could  have  given  him  some  information  that 
would  have  made  him  open  his  eyes  and  put  him  in 
fighting  humor  at  once ;  but  he  thought  it  best  to 
avoid  that  subject  altogether.  If  he  told  Zeke  that 
Uncle  John  had  threatened  to  take  his  herd  of  cattle 
away  from  him,  under  the  plea  of  reducing  expenses, 
but  really  as  George  believed,  for  the  purpose 
of  turning  it  over  to  Ned,  the  old  man  would  have 
been  as  angry  as  George  was  when  he  first  learned 
of  the  fact.  But  the  boy  didn't  want  to  let  Zeke 
know  how  mean  his  uncle  was,  and  so  he  said 
nothing  about  his  plans.  They  never  could  be  car 
ried  out  while  Zeke  was  there  to  protect  his  stock, 
and  George  could  afford  to  be  magnanimous. 

George  and  his  herdsman  made  an  early  start  on 


216  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  following  morning,  and  the  third  night  found 
them  at  Catfish  Falls.  They  now  felt  perfectly  safe, 
for  the  raiders  had  never  been  known  to  penetrate 
so  far  into  the  country.  Their  depredations  were 
principally  confined  to  the  counties  bordering  on  the 
river,  it  being  their  object  to  stampede  all  the  stock 
they  could  find  in  one  night's  raid,  and  drive  it 
across  the  river  into  Mexico,  before  the  settlers  could 
gather  in  sufficient  numbers  to  pursue  them.  They 
tried  as  hard  to  avoid  a  fight  as  the  ranchemen  did 
to  overtake  them. 

George  made  the  camp  and  cooked  the  supper, 
and  when  they  had  satisfied  their  appetites,  the 
former  laid  down  on  his  blanket  in  front  of  the  fire 
with  his  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and  listened  to  Zeke, 
who  talked  and  smoked  incessantly.  Their  work  for 
the  day  was  over  now.  The  cattle  were  always 
brought  close  in  to  camp  at  dark,  the  horses  and 
mule  were  staked  out,  and  the  campers  went  to  bed 
at  an  early  hour.  If  they  awoke  during  the  night, 
they  replenished  the  fire  with  some  of  the  fuel  that 
was  always  kept  close  at  hand,  and  walked  around 
the  herd  to  see  if  there  were  any  restless  ones  in  it 
who  felt  inclined  to  stray  away.  George  performed 
this  necessary  duty  twice  on  this  particular  night. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  217 

making  the  first  round  about  twelve  o'clock.  To 
his  surprise,  he  found  the  most  of  the  cattle  on  their 
feet,  and  saw  that  some  of  them  were  exhibiting 
unmistakable  signs  of  uneasiness  and  alarm.  They 
stood  snuffing  the  air  eagerly,  carrying  their  heads 
high  and  their  ears  thrown  forward,  and  now  and 
then  they  would  walk  a  few  steps  out  of  the  herd, 
lower  their  horns  and  paw  the  ground  as  if  challeng 
ing  the  object  that  had  excited  them,  whatever  it 
was,  to  come  out  and  give  them  battle.  The  rest  of 
the  cattle  were  lying  down,  chewing  their  cuds  con 
tentedly,  and  apparently  not  at  all  disturbed  by  the 
antics  of  their  nervous  companions. 

George  threw  himself  flat  upon  the  ground  and 
swept  his  eyes  around  the  horizon.  Tn  this  posi 
tion,  he  could  distinctly  see  any  object  that  might 
be  approaching  the  camp  (provided,  of  course,  that 
it  was  taller  than  the  grass)  for  it  would  be  clearly 
outlined  against  the  sky.  But  he  could  see  nothing. 
He  arose  to  his  feet  again  and  listened  intently,  but 
could  hear  nothing  calculated  to  excite  his  alarm. 
The  wolves  which  serenaded  them  every  night  were 
holding  a  concert  a  short  distance  away,  and  that 
made  George  believe  that  if  there  was  any  danger 
approaching,  it  was  yet  a  long  distance  off;  for  he 


218  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

knew  that  the  wolves  would  be  the  first  to  discover 
it,  and  that  they  would  then  bring  their  concert  to  a 
dose  and  take  to  their  heels. 

"There's  something  up,"  thought  George,  once 
more  turning  his  eyes  toward  the  cattle.  Some  of 
the  uneasy  ones,  re-assured  by  his  presence,  were 
walking  about  among  their  companions,  as  if  they 
were  looking  for  a  good  place  to  lie  down,  while  the 
others  remained  in  a  defiant  attitude  and  snuifed  the 
air  as  before.  "There's  something  up,"  repeated 
George,  "  and  I  have  been  expecting  it.  I  have  felt 
very  nervous  and  timid  for  two  or  three  days,  and  I 
don't  know  how  to  account  for  it.  If  there  is  any 
body  within  hearing  or  smelling  distance  who  has 
no  business  here,  I  can  find  it  out." 

George  walked  back  to  the  camp,  picked  up  his 
rifle,  and  after  unfastening  the  lasso  with  which  his 
horse  was  confined,  he  jumped  on  the  animal's  back 
without  saddle  or  bridle  and  rode  away  in  the  dark 
ness,  paying  no  heed  to  a  bray  of  remonstrance  from 
Bony  who  followed  as  far  as  the  length  of  his  lariat 
would  allow  him  to  go.  He  rode  out  on  the  prairie 
for  a  hundred  yards  or  more,  and  then  stopped  his 
horse  and  listened  again.  The  animal  stood  per 
fectly  quiet  for  a  few  seconds,  looking  first  one  way 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  219 

and  then  another,  and  turning  his  ears  toward  all 
points  of  the  compass,  and  apparently  satisfied  with 
the  result  of  his  reconnoissance,  he  put  down  his 
head  and  began  cropping  the  grass. 

"  Hold  up,  here  !"  exclaimed  George,  seizing  the 
horse  by  the  mane  and  tapping  him  gently  on  the 
side  of  his  head  with  the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  to  make 
him  turn  around.  "  We  have  nothing  to  be  fright 
ened  at  yet — that's  evident.  Now,  old  fellow,  I  shall 
leave  you  loose.  Keep  your  ears  open  and  wake  us 
up  if  you  hear  anything!" 

George  rode  back  to  camp  and  sought  his  blanket 
feeling  a  little  more  at  his  ease.  He  had  as  much 
faith  in  his  horse  as  he  had  in  Zeke  (the  latter  used 
to  say  that  he  could  smell  an  Indian  or  a  Greaser  at 
night  as  far  as  he  could  see  him  in  the  daytime), 
and  since  the  animal  could  not  discover  anything 
suspicious,  it  was  as  good  evidence  as  he  wanted  that 
there  was  nothing  to  fear.  No  doubt  some  of  the 
wild  members  of  the  herd  felt  as  nervous  and  uneasy 
as  he  did.  and  took  their  own  way  to  show  it. 

Although  George  brought  back  to  his  blanket  a 
most  refreshing  feeling  of  security,  he  did  not  sleep 
as  soundly  as  he  usually  did.  He  went  through  all 
sorts  of  terrible  things  in  his  dreams,  and  started 


220  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

every  time  the  fire  snapped.  He  was  wide  awake 
again  at  one  o'clock,  and  set  out  on  his  second  tour 
of  inspection.  The  moon,  now  nearly  half  an  hour 
high,  had  brought  up  with  it  a  cooling  breeze  vihicL 
gently  rustled  the  long  grass  of  the  prairie,  and 
sent  the  sparks  from  the  camp-fire  circling  high  in 
the  air.  The  wolves  had  closed  their  concert  and 
gone  off  to  find  a  more  appreciative  audience,  and 
there  was  an  air  of  peaceful  quiet  brooding  over  the 
scene.  George  forgot  all  his  fears  and  continued 
his  round  with  a  light  heart.  He  found  the  cattle 
quiet,  but  some  of  them  had  begun  feeding  and  were 
straying  away  from  the  rest  of  the  herd.  While 
George  was  engaged  in  driving  them  back,  and 
forcing  the  remainder  of  the  herd  into  a  more  com 
pact  body,  a  yell,  so  sudden  and  startling  that  it 
made  the  cold  chills  creep  all  over  him,  arose  on  the 
air,  and  out  from  a  little  thicket  of  willows  that 
grew  a  short  distance  from  the  belt  in  which  the 
camp  was  located,  dashed  a  party  of  horsemen  who 
charged  toward  the  herd  at  the  top  of  their  speed. 
They  were  Mexicans;  George  could  see  that  at  a 
glance.  They  had  doubtless  been  hovering  about 
the  camp  all  night,  and  it  was  while  they  were  work 
ing  their  way  around  to  the  leeward  of  the  herd  that 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  221 

their  presence  had   been   detected   by  the  wakeful 
cattle. 

George  stood  for  an  instant  as  if  he  were  rooted 
to  the  ground;  and  then  with  a  wild  cry  of  alarm 
ho  dashed  forward,  running  diagonally  across  the 
front  of  the  herd,  hoping  almost  against  hope  that 
he  might  succeed  in  passing  them,  and  thus  avoiding 
the  rush  which  he  knew  would  come  in  a  moment 
more.  It  was  the  only  way  in  which  he  could 
escape  being  trampled  to  death.  He  ran  as  he  had 
never  run  before,  but  he  had  made  scarcely  half  a 
dozen  steps  when  a  rumble  like  that  of  an  avalanche 
sounded  close  at  his  side,  telling  him  that  the  cattle 
were  coming.  The  strongest  fence  that  was  ever 
built  would  not  have  stopped  them  now,  and  George, 
had  he  attempted  to  drive  them  back  or  turn  them 
aside,  would  have  been  trampled  under  their  feet 
like  a  blade  of  grass.  He  saw  and  fully  realized 
his  danger,  but  could  not  escape  it.  Even  Zeke, 
who  was  as  light  of  foot  as  an  antelope,  could  not 
have  saved  himself  by  his  speed;  and  George,  giving 
himself  up  for  lost,  fell  flat  upon  the  ground,  clasped 
his  hands  over  his  head  and  awaited  his  fate.  By 
the  merest  chance1  he  threw  himself  into  a  little 
excavation  in  the  prairie,  which,  in  the  years  gone 


222  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

by,  had  doubtless  served  as  a  wallow  for  some  old 
patriarch  of  a  buffalo;  but  now  it  was  covered  with 
grass,  and  there  were  two  or  three  little  willcws 
growing  out  of  the  bottom  of  it. 

This  protection,  slight  as  it  was,  saved  the  boy'a 
life.  He  had  barely  time  to  crowd  himself  close 
against  the  frail  stems  of  the  willows  before  the 
frantic  cattle  were  upon  him.  The  roar  of  their 
hoofs  on  the  hard  ground  was  almost  deafening.  It 
was  louder  than  the  roar  of  all  the  northers  he  had 
ever  heard  crowded  into  one;  but  even  while  he  was 
wondering  why  some  of  the  cattle  did  not  jump 
upon  him  the  roar  subsided,  and  George,  looking  up 
through  the  willows  which  had  been  bent  over  his 
head,  saw  the  moon  shining  down  upon  him.  Every 
steer  had  jumped  the  wallow,  and  George  had 
escaped  with  nothing  more  than  a  terrible  fright. 
While  he  was  congratulating  himself  upon  his  good 
fortune,  a  clatter  of  hoofs  sounded  near,  and  he 
ducked  his  head  just  as  two  horsemen,  riding  side 
by  side,  dashed  over  the  wallow  in  pursuit  of  the 
flying  herd. 

The  boy's  first  thought,  after  he  had  satisfied  him 
self  that  he  had  escaped  without  injury,  was  of 
Zeke.  What  had  become  of  him  ?  There  was  one 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  223 

thing  certain — George  knew  it  now  as  well  as  he 
did  a  few  minutes  later — and  that  was  that  the 
herdsman  had  made  a  fight,  and  a  good  one,  too. 
Although  the  old  fellow  appeared  to  be  a  sound 
sleeper,  he  would  jump  to  his  feet  the  instant  he 
heard  any  unusual  noise,  and  he  was  wide  awake 
the  moment  he  opened  his  eyes.  More  than  that, 
he  kept  his  Winchester  close  at  hand,  and  could  dis 
charge  it  with  a  rapidity  and  accuracy  that  George 
had  tried  in  vain  to  imitate.  Zeke  was  probably  on 
his  feet  before  the  yell  that  frightened  the  cattle  was 
half  uttered,  and  as  soon  as  he  got  there  he  was 
ready  to  begin  shooting.  Of  course  George  had  not 
heard  the  report  of  his  rifle,  for  the  rumble  of  that 
multitude  of  hoofs  about  his  ears  would  have  drowned 
the  roar  of  a  cannon. 

"But  I  know,  all  the  same,  that  he  did  shoot, 
and  that  some  of  those  raiders  didn't  get  away," 
thought  George,  as  he  once  more  raised  his  head 
and  looked  over  the  grass  in  the  direction  of  the 
camp.  "  I  think  I  had  better  stay  here.  Zeke  will 
know  when  the  danger  is  over,  and  then  he  will  call 
to  me.  I  wonder  if  he  is  there  now  ?  Somebody 
is  punching  up  the  fire,  sure!" 

The  old  buffalo  wallow  into  which  George   had 


224  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

thrown  himself,  was  about  a  hundred  yards  distant 
from  the  willows,  and  the  grass  was  so  high  that  he 
could  not  see  the  camp ;  but  he  could  see  the  smoke 
of  the  fire  as  it  arose  through  the  tops  of  the  trees 
that  hung  over  it.  Just  now  the  fire  was  blazing 
brightly,  and  the  sparks  were  rising  from  it  in 
volumes.  This  was  what  led  George  to  believe  that 
there  was  somebody  in  the  camp.  It  couldn't  be 
one  of  the  raiders,  he  told  himself,  for  they  never 
stopped.  They  stampeded  the  cattle  and  dashed  on 
after  them  to  get  out  of  reach  of  the  bullets  in  the 
herder's  rifles. 

"  Of  course  Zeke  is  there,"  thought  George  as  he 
arose  from  his  place  of  concealment ;  but  he  had 
scarcely  placed  himself  fairly  upon  his  feet  before  he 
dropped  back  among  the  willows  again.  There  were 
several  figures  moving  about  the  fire,  and  there  were 
riderless  horses  and  mounted  men  near  by.  The 
men  were  all  dressed  in  Mexican  costume — the  wide 
brims  of  their  sombreros  were  plainly  visible  in  the 
moonlight — and  there  were  at  least  a  dozen  of  them 
in  sight.  One  of  them  seemed  to  be  poking  up  the 
fire  for  the  purpose  of  making  as  bright  a  light  as 
possible,  while  the  others  were  going  into  the  willows 
with  blazing  fire-brands  in  their  hands.  Some  of 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  225 

their  companions  had  already  gone  in  there  armed 
in  the  same  manner,  for  George  could  see  the  lights 
dancing  about  among  the  trees. 

The  boy  saw  all  this  during  the  instant  of  time  he 
was  on  his  feet,  and  when  he  dropped  back  into  his 
concealment  again,  his  fear  had  given  place  to  a  feel 
ing  of  exultation.  The  raiders  were  searching  the 
woods  in  the  vicinity  of  the  camp,  and  of  course 
they  could  be  looking  for  nobody  but  Zeke.  Proba 
bly  the  old  fellow  had  given  them  a  very  warm 
reception.  No  doubt  he  had  tumbled  three  or  four 
of  them  out  of  their  saddles,  and  the  survivors  were 
hunting  him  up  with  the  intention  of  taking  ven 
geance  on  him  if  they  caught  him. 

"But  they'll  never  catch  him,"  chuckled  George, 
"  because  he's  too  old  a  'coon.  He  has  fought 
Indians  too  long  to  be  beaten  by  a  lot  of  lubberly 
Greasers." 

George  drew  the  tops  of  the  willows  closer  to 
gether,  confining  them  in  that  position  by  twisting 
their  branches,  and  having  thus  formed  a  screen 
that  was  large  enough  to  cover  his  head,  he  raised 
himself  upon  his  knees,  so  that  he  could  look  over 
the  grass  and  watch  the  motions  of  the  raiders. 
They  were  certainly  looking  for  somebody,  and  they 


226  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

seemed  resolved  to  find  him,  too,  for  they  did  not 
grow  discouraged  and  go  away,  as  George  hoped 
they  would.  Their  failure  only  seemed  to  make 
them  the  more  determined.  First  one  and  then 
another  seized  fire-brands  and  joined  their  compan 
ions  in  the  woods,  and  finally  those  who  were 
mounted,  swung  themselves  out  of  their  saddles 
and  went  in  too,  leaving  the  camp  to  take  car-e  of 
itself. 

"  I  wonder  what  Zeke  has  done  to  make  them 
so  persistent !"  said  George  to  himself.  "Perhaps 
they've  got  an  old  grudge  against  him.  They  might 
as  well  go  away,  for  they'll  not  find  him.  He's  safe 
long  before  this  time,  and  if  I  could  only  make  my 
horse  hear  me,  I'd  soon  be  safe  too." 

George  could  always  find  something  to  feel  happy 
over,  no  matter  how  unpleasant  the  situation  in 
which  he  might  be  placed,  and  he  found  something 
now.  He  had  lost  his  fine  herd  of  cattle,  but  Zeke 
was  left  to  him,  and  so  were  his  horse  and  pack-mule. 
The  former  had  been  stampeded  with  the  cattle,  but 
George  knew  he  would  not  run  far  before  he  would 
leave  them  and  strike  a  straight  course  for  home. 
The  two  Mexicans  who  had  followed  the  herd  to 
bead  it  off  and  turn  it  away  from  the  settlements 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  227 

toward  the  river,  would  not  bother  their  heads  about 
him,  for  while  they  had  three  hundred  fat  cattle  to 
look  out  for,  they  could  not  afford  to  waste  time  in 
pursuing  a  single  horse.  Bony  was  still  staked  out 
near  the  camp,  and  so  was  Zeke's  nag.  They  both 
made  the  most  desperate  efforts  to  escape  with  the 
herd,  but  the  lariats  with  which  they  were  confined 
were  too  strong  to  be  broken,  and  the  picket-pins 
were  driven  so  firmly  into  the  ground  that  they 
could  riot  be  easily  pulled  up.  The  Mexicans,  when 
they  were  ready  to  leave  the  camp,  would  probably 
turn  these  animals  loose,  expecting  them  to  follow 
their  own  horses,  just  as  Silk  Stocking  had  followed 
off  the  raiders  who  made  the  attack  on  the  rancho ; 
but  that  was  something  Bony  would  not  do.  He 
was  very  much  afraid  of  strangers,  and  when  left  to 
himself  he  would  make  the  best  of  his  way  home. 

The  search  for  Zeke  was  continued  until  broad 
daylight,  and  all  this  while  George  lay  in  his  con 
cealment  watching  the  motions  of  the  raiders  and 
wondering  what  his  herdsman  had  done  to  make 
the  thieves  so  anxious  to  find  him.  When  day  began 
to  dawn  he  discovered  something  that  seemed  to 
explain  it  all :  there  were  five  wounded  men  sitting 
and  lying  beside  the  fire.  George  knew  that  they 


228  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

were  wounded,  for  he  could  see  that  they  wore  band 
ages,  and  that  one  who  limped  considerably  and  used 
a  stick  to  walk  with,  would  now  and  then  get  up  to 
bring  a  Cup  of  water  from  the  bayou  to  two  of  his 
companions  who  kept  their  blankets.  Probable  one 
of  these  men  was  the  leader  of  the  band,  and  that 
was  the  reason  why  the  others  were  so  determined  to 
find  Zeke.  But  they  had  to  give  up  the  search  and 
go  away  without  him,  as  George  knew  they  would. 
Shortly  after  daylight  they  began  to  come  into  camp 
by  twos  and  threes,  and  when  they  were  all  assembled 
George  counted  eighteen  of  them.  They  talked  earn 
estly  together  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  set  about 
preparing  a  hasty  breakfast,  helping  themselves 
bountifully  to  the  contents  of  the  pack-saddle,  and 
using  the  cooking  utensils  which  George  had  pro 
vided  for  his  own  use  and  Zeke's. 

George  waited  with  no  little  impatience  to  find 
out  what  they  were  going  to  do  when  they  made  an 
end  of  the  bacon  and  coffee,  and  was  very  glad  to 
gee  that  they  were  preparing  for  an  immediate  de 
parture.  When  all  was  ready  the  wounded  members 
of  the  band  were  assisted  into  their  saddles,  Zeke's 
horse  and  George's  pack-mule  were  set  at  liberty, 
and  the  raiders  moved  slowly  along  the  willows  in 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  229 

the  direction  the  cattle  had  taken  when  they  were 
stampeded.  It  was  a  wonder  that  their  suspicions 
were  not  aroused  by  the  actions  of  the  mule  which, 
foolish  as  mules  generally  are,  ran  at  once  to  the 
buffalo  wallow  in  which  George  was  concealed,  and 
not  content  with  shying  at  the  sight  of  it  and  giving 
it  a  wide  berth,  as  Zeke's  horse  did,  Bony  circled 
around  it  two  or  three  times,  and  finally  stopping, 
thrust  out  his  neck,  threw  his  long  ears  forward 
and  looked  suspiciously  at  the  crouching  form  of 
his  master. 

George,  who  had  been  in  a  fever  of  suspense  for 
long  hours,  and  who  began  to  breathe  more  freely 
when  he  saw  the  raiders  moving  away,  was  frightened 
again;  but,  as  it  happened,  the  thieves  paid  no 
attention  to  the  mule's  actions.  Better  than  that, 
Zeke's  horse  kept  on  his  way  without  stopping,  and 
Bony,  seeing  that  he  was  going  to  be  left  behind, 
started  in  pursuit.  The  danger  was  over  now,  but 
George  was  much  too  wary  to  run  any  risks.  lie 
saw  the  raiders  disappear  over  the  nearest  swell,  but 
he  allowed  another  hour  to  pass  before  he  left  his 
hiding-place.  Then  he  moved  very  cautiously,  crawl 
ing  along  on  his  hands  and  knees,  stopping  every  few 
feet  to  look  over  the  grass  and  listen,  and  examining 


230  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  ground  about  the  camp  very  thoroughly  before 
he  ventured  into  the  woods. 

He  found  the  camp  in  the  greatest  confusion. 
His  rifle  and  revolvers  were  gone,  so  were  his 
blankets  and  poncho,  and  also  a  good  portion  of  the 
contents  of  the  pack-saddle ;  but  there  was  still  a 
little  of  the  bacon  and  hard-tack  left,  and  the 
raiders  had  forgotten  to  take  his  haversack  and  fry 
ing-pan.  He  replenished  the  fire  at  once,  and  while 
waiting  for  it  to  get  fairly  started,  employed  himself 
in  cutting  up  the  bacon  with  an  old  rusty  hunting- 
knife  which  one  of  the  thieves  had  probably  left  in 
exchange  for  his  own  new  one.  While  he  was  thus 
engaged  he  did  not  neglect  to  keep  an  eye  open  for 
any  straggling  raiders  who  might  have  fallen  behind 
the  main  body ;  but  there  were  none  in  sight.  He 
placed  the  bacon  in  the  frying-pan,  and  when  it  was 
done  to  his  satisfaction  he  put  it  into  his  haversack, 
together  with  the  small  supply  of  hard-tack  that 
was  left,  extinguished  the  fire  and  set  out  for  home. 

"  I  am  glad  the  thieves  left  me  provisions  enough 
t(  last  me  until  I  can  get  more,"  said  George,  to 
himself.  "  If  I  have  to  travel  all  the  way  on  foot, 
it  will  take  me  four  or  five  days  to  reach  the  nearest 
fancho,  and  I  have  no  fears  of  getting  hungry  dur- 


LIFE    OX    THE    PLAINS.  231 

ing  that  time.     What  broirght  those  raiders  so  far 
from  the  river  ?     That's  what  I  can't  understand." 

During  the  two  days  that  followed,  while  the 
young  cattle-herder  was  trudging  painfully  over  the 
lonely  prairie,  he  had  ample  leisure  to  turn  this 
question  over  in  his  mind.  He  travelled  early  and 
late,  but  his  progress  was  necessarily  slow,  for  one 
who  spends  the  most  of  his  time  in  the  saddle, 
finds  it  hard  work  to  go  on  foot,  and  soon  grows 
weary.  He  kept  a  bright  lookout  for  Zeke,  and 
stopped  on  the  top  of  every  swell  to  scan  the  prairie 
before  and  on  both  sides  of  him,  in  the  hope  of 
discovering  his  horse  or  pack-mule ;  but  Zeke  was 
miles  ahead  of  him,  hastening  toward  the  settle 
ment,  intent  on  alarming  the  ranchemen  in  time 
to  cut  the  raiders  oif  from  the  river,  while  Bony 
and  Ranger  were  making  the  best  of  their  way 
toward  home. 

"  They  are  all  safe,  I  know,  for  they  are  able  to 
take  care  of  themselves.  So  am  I;  but  there's  no 
fun  in  looking  forward  to  three  days  more  of  such 
walking  as  I  have  had.  I  shouldn't  mind  it  so  much 
if  I  hadn't  lost  my  cattle,"  said  George,  with  a  long- 
drawn  sigh.  Those  lazy  Greasers  have  robbed  me 
of  years  of  hard  work,  and  now  I  must  begin  all 


232  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

over  again,  or  else  go  to  herding  cattle  for  Uncle 
John.  Of  course  I  can't  loaf  about  the  house  all 
the  time  and  do  nothing,  as  Ned  does,  Hal-lo  !" 

While  George  was  talking  to  himself  in  this  way 
he  came  to  the  top  of  a  ridge,  and  found  before  him 
a  long  line  of  willows  which  fringed  the  banks  )f  a 
water-course.  A  solitary  horse  was  feeding  near  the 
willows,  and  this  it  was  that  attracted  the  boy's 
attention  and  called  forth  the  exclamation  with 
which  he  finished  his  soliloquy.  The  sight  of  the 
animal  alarmed  him,  for  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that  a 
horse,  wearing  a  saddle  and  bridle,  would  be  feeding 
contentedly  in  that  wilderness,  so  far  from  all  signs 
of  civilization,  unless  there  was  some  one  with  him. 
George  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  ran  his  eyes 
along  the  willows  in  search  of  a  camp.  If  there  was 
one  in  the  neighborhood  he  could  not  find  it.  There 
was  no  smoke  to  be  seen,  nor  were  there  any  other 
indications  of  the  presence  of  human  beings. 

"But  there's  somebody  here  all  the  same,'1 
thought  the  boy,  shifting  his  position  a  little,  so 
that  he  could  obtain  a  better  view  of  the  willows, 
"  for  that  horse  never  came  here  without  a  rider. 
Somebody  has  stopped  in  the  willows  to  rest,  and 
he's  a  Mexican,  too.  I  know  it  by  the  silver  orna- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  233 

ments  on  the  saddle.  I  wish  I  could  think  up  some 
way  to  capture  that  horse.  Shall  I  try  it?" 

Not  knowing  what  else  to  do  just  then,  George 
lay  there  in  the  grass  and  considered  the  matter. 
Weary  and  footsore  as  he  was,  the  thought  of 
finishing  his  journey  on  horseback  was  a  most 
agreeable  one.  The  animal  was  loose — when  he 
raised  his  head,  George  could  see  that  he  was  not 
confined  by  a  lariat — but  if  he  attempted  to  creep 
up  to  him  the  horse  would  doubtless  take  fright  and 
run  off;  and  that  would  excite  the  suspicions  of  his 
owner,  who  might  be  tempted  to  send  a  bullet  from 
his  carbine  in  that  direction.  There  was  too  much 
danger  in  it  George  found  when  he  came  to  think 
it  over.  He  sighed  regretfully,  thought  almost 
with  a  shudder,  of  the  long,  weary  miles  that  lay 
between  him  and  the  nearest  rancho,  and  was  about 
to  crawl  back  down  the  swell  again,  when  he  was 
astonished  almost  beyond  measure,  to  hear  his  own 
name  pronounced  in  a  weak  and  trembling,  but  still 
distinct  voice. 

"  George !  George  Ackerman !"  came  the  hail 
from  the  willows. 

George  jumped  to  his  feet,  and  looking  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  voice  sounded,  saw  a  som- 


234  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

brero  waved  in  the  air,  and  could  dimly  discern  the 
figure  of  a  man,  dressed  in  Mexican  costume,  who 
was  sitting  on  the  ground,  with  his  back  against  one 
of  the  willows. 

"  George  !"  repeated  the  man. 

"  Hallo  !"  was  the  reply. 

"  Come  here,  will  you  ?  I  am  badly  hurt  and  in 
need  of  help !" 

George  grew  more  and  more  astonished.  The 
man  was  a  Mexican  beyond  a  doubt,  but  the  voice 
sounded  strangely  familiar. 

"  Don't  be  afeared,  George  !"  continued  the  man, 
in  a  pleading  tone.  "  I  couldn't  hurt  you  if  I 
wanted  to  !  I've  got  something  to  tell  you  !" 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  boy. 

"Why,  don't  you  know  Springer,  who  used  to 
herd  cattle  for  your  father  ?' 

Yes,  George  knew  him,  and  he  didn't  know  any 
thing  good  of  him  either. 

"  If  you  are  Springer,"  he  shouted  "what  are 
you  doing  there  with  those  clothes  on  ?" 

"Come  here,  an'  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it!"  was 
the  answer.  "  I'll  tell  you  something  else,  too — • 
something  that'll  make  you  open  your  eyes.  Do 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  235 

come,  George,  and  give  me  a  drink  of  water !     I've 
got  a  chunk  of  lead  through  each  leg !" 

"Aha!"  said  George,  who  thought  he  understood 
the  matter  now.  "  You  were  with  the  raiders,  and 
Zeke  got  two  pulls  at  you  with  his  Winchester !" 

As  he  said  this  he  ran  down  the  swell,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  more  was  standing  beside  the  wounded 
man.  It  was  Springer,  sure  enough,  but  he  was  so 
much  changed  that  George  could  scarcely  recognise 
him.  His  face  was  very  pale  and  his  strong  frame 
was  convulsed  with  agony.  The  sash  he  usually 
wore  around  his  waist  had  been  cut  in  two,  and  the 
pieces  were  bound  tightly  about  his  legs  above  the 
knee  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood  from  the  wounds 
made  by  the  herdsman's  rifle.  He  was  a  hard-look 
ing  fellow,  and  any  one  would  have  taken  him  for 
just  what  George  knew  him  to  be — a  cattle-thief. 

Without  stopping  to  ask  any  more  questions 
George  seized  the  man's  hat,  and  hastening  to  the 
bayou  presently  returned  with  the  crown  filled  with 
water.  The  wounded  raider  drank  eagerly  and  sank 
back  against  his  tree  with  a  sigh  of  great  satisfaction. 


236 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

GEORGE   HAS   COMPANY. 

i~^  EORGE  knew  Springer  well.  The  latter  had 
once  been  in  his  father's  employ ;  but  being 
of  no  use  as  a  herdsman  or  anything  else,  he  had 
been  discharged,  to  make  room  for  a  more  industri 
ous  and  pains-taking  man.  This  enraged  Springer, 
who  threatened  vengeance,  and  followed  up  his 
threats  by  attempting  to  fire  the  rancho.  He  had 
been  detected  in  the  act  and  almost  captured ;  but 
he  succeeded  in  making  his  escape,  and  since  then 
George  had  never  met  him  until  this  particular  day. 
He  had  often  heard  of  him,  however,  as  a  member 
of  a  band  of  cattle-thieves,  who  now  and  then  made 
a  raid  through  the  country  farther  down  the  river. 
There  were  a  good  many  others  just  like  Springer, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Rio  Grande — renegade 
Americans — who,  having  left  their  country  for  their 
country's  good,  had  taken  refuge  among  the  Mexi 
cans,  and  joined  with  them  in  raiding  upon  the 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  237 

well-stocked   farms    and    ranches   of    their    Texan 
neighbors. 

u  You  needn't  be  afeared,  George,"  repeated 
Springer,  seeing  that  the  boy  cast  uneasy  glances 
about  him,  as  if  half  expecting  to  see  the  rest  of  the 
band  start  up  from  some  ambush  among  the  willows. 
"  Thar's  nobody  here  but  me." 

"Where  are  your  friends?"  asked  George. 

"  They've  gone  on,  an'  I  s'pose  they're  acrosst 
the  river  by  this  time." 

"  Did  they  leave  you  here  to  take  care  of  your 
self?"  inquired  George,  who  found  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  men  could  be  so  heartless. 

"What  else  could  they  do?"  asked  Springer, 
wincing  a  little,  as  he  tried  to  move  one  of  his 
wounded  legs  into  a  more  comfortable  position. 
"  A  man  who  is  fool  enough  to  get  hurt,  must  take 
his  chances.  If  he  can  keep  up  with  the  rest,  well 
an'  good ;  if  he  can't,  he  must  fall  behind  an'  look 
out  fur  himself.  I'm  glad  I  ain't  in  the  settlement. 
Fd  rather  stay  here  an'  starve,  fur  want  of  grub  an' 
water,  than  have  the  ranchemen  catch  me.  I  ain't 
had  a  bite  to  eat  fur  two  days." 

"You  haven't!"  exclaimed  George.  "I'll  di 
vide  with  you." 


238  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

> 

He  opened  his  haversack,  as  he  spoke,  and  pro 
ducing  from  its  capacious  depths  a  goodly  supply 
of  bacon  and  cracker,  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the 
-wounded  man,  whose  eyes  brightened  as  he  received 
it.  George  stood  by  and  saw  him  eat  it,  and  was 
glad  to  see  that  he  enjoyed  it,  although  he  knew 
that  by  thus  diminishing  his  store  he  put  himself  in 
a  fair  wTay  to  go  hungry  for  many  a  weary  mile  of 
his  journey.  The  man  was  a  scoundrel — no  one 
except  himself  could  tell  what  deeds  of  violence  he 
had  been  guilty  of  during  his  raids — but  for  all  that 
George  was  glad  that  it  wras  in  his  power  to  relieve 
his  distress. 

"I  am  sorry  to  see  you  in  this  situation, 
Springer,"  said  he,  when  the  bacon  and  cracker 
had  disappeared. 

u  Are  you,  though?"  exclaimed  the  man,  wiping 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  hand,  and  looking 
up  in  surprise.  "  I  didn't  s'pose  you  would  be." 

"  Well,  I  am ;  and  I  hope  that  when  you  get 
well,  you  will  behave  yourself  and  live  among  white 
men." 

"  That's  impossible ;  'kase  why,  white  men  won't 
have  nothing  to  do  with  me,"  replied  Springer, 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  239 

almost  fiercely.  "  Would  you  liirc  me  to  herd 
cattle  fur  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  would.  I  know  you  threatened  that 
you  would  be  revenged  on  my  father  for  discharg 
ing  you,  but  I  don't  see  why  you  should  follow  me 
up.  I  haven't  done  anything  to  you.  How  did 
you  get  shot  ?  And  how  came  you  here  ?" 

"Wai,  you  see,  we  made  the  dash  on  your  camp, 
kalkerlatin'  to  take  you  by  surprise  ;  but  Zeke,  he 
allers  sleeps  with  his  rifle  in  his  hand  an'  one  eye 
open,  an'  I  was  the  fust  feller  he  got  a  crack  at. 
He  took  two  pulls  at  me,  an'  this  yere  is  the  conse 
quence,"  said  Springer,  pointing  with  both  fore 
fingers  toward  his  bandaged  legs.  "  When  we  left 
your  camp,  the  fellers  put  me  on  my  hoss,  an'  I 
kept  up  with  'em  fur  a  few  hours ;  but  the  pace  was 
too  fast  fur  me — I  couldn't  stand  the  joltin' ;  so  I 
had  to  pull  up.  When  I  reached  this  bayou,  I 
thought  I'd  get  a  drink  of  water ;  but  when  I  got 
down  I  fell,  lettin'  go  my  bridle,  an'  my  hoss 
walked  away.  I  was  too  weak  an'  bad  hurt  to 
crawl  to  the  water;  I  couldn't  ketch  my  hoss,  an'  I 
reckoned  I'd  got  to  stay  right  here.  I  happened  to 
see  you  when  you  come  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  an' 
called  to  you,  thinkin'  mebbe  you  wouldn't  refuse 


240  GEORGE    IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

to  give  me  the  drink  I  was  a' most  ready  to  die  fur. 
But  you  wouldn't  a  done  it,  if  you  knowed  is 
much  as  I  do  !" 

"Yes,  I  would.  I  dont  bear  you  any  ill-will 
because  you  stole  my  cattle." 

"  But  that  aint  all !"  exclaimed  Springer. 

"  I  know  it  isn't !  You  tried  to  burn  my  home 
over  my  head ;  but  I  don't  bear  you  any  ill-will  for 
that,  either ;  and  I'll  prove  it  to  you  by  putting  you 
on  your  horse  and  giving  you  a  chance  to  save  your 
self!" 

"But  that  aint  all!"  said  Springer.  "How  do 
you  reckon  we  knowed  whar  to  look  for  you?" 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell !  I  never  knew  raiders  to 
venture  so  far  from  the  river  before  !" 

"An'  they  never  did,  nuther1  Whar  was  you 
when  we  was  in  your  camp  ?" 

"  I  was  lying  in  a  buffalo  wallow  about  a  hundred 
yards  away!" 

"  Did  you  see  the  fellars  while  they  was  a  pokin' 
around  in  the  willows  with  their  fire-brands  ?  What 
do  you  reckon  they  was  a  lookin'  for  ?" 

"  I  supposed  they  were  looking  for  Zeke  !" 

"  Wai,  they  wasn't   lookin'    for    Zeke,    nuther ! 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  241 

They  didn't  care  nothing  about  Zeke  !    You  was  the 
fellow  they  wanted  to  find !" 

"I  was!"  exclaimed  George.  "What  did  they 
want  of  me  ?" 

"  They  wanted  you  'kase  there's  a  thousand  head 
of  fat  steers  wrapped  up  in  you,  'sides  them  three 
hundred  we  stole  from  you  the  other  night !" 

The  boy  was  greatly  astonished,  and  he  was  cer 
tain,  too,  that  he  knew  what  Springer  was  trying  to 
get  at.  He  seated  himself  on  the  ground  with  his 
back  against  a  neighboring  tree,  and  said  as  calmly 
as  he  could: 

"You  must  speak  plainer  than  that  if  you  want 
me  to  know  just  what  you  mean  !" 

"I  mean  jist  this  yere,"  said  Springer;  "an  I'll 
tell  you  'cause  you  was  good  enough  to  come  here 
an'  give  me  the  drink  of  water  I  was  starvin'  fur, 
an'  feed  me  outen  your  grub  when  you  haint  got 
enough  to  eat  yourself.  George,  you  are  in  danger 
every  day  you  spend  at  your  rancho !  Your  uncle 
and  cousin  don't  want  you  there,  an'  they  aint  goin' 
to  let  you  stay  nuther !" 

George  thought  from  what  Springer  said  before 
that  he  had  some  such  revelation  as  this  to  make, 
but  when  it  came  it  almost  took  his  breath  away. 
16 


212  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

He  had  long  been  of  the  opinion  that  his  relatives 
didn't  want  him  at  the  rancho,  but  how  could  this 
cattle-thief,  who  lived  miles  away  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  have  found  it  out?  The  man  talked  in 
a  positive  tone,  as  though  he  knew  all  about  it,  and 
this  was  what  surprised  George.  There  was  one 
thing  certain,  however:  He  was  not  going  to  discuss 
family  matters  with  any  such  fellow  as  Springer. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  he,  as  he  arose  to 
his  feet  and  slung  his  haversack  over  his  shoulders. 
"  I'll  not  stay  here  if  you  are  going  to  insult  my 
uncle  and  cousin !" 

"  Say,  George,  whar  you  goin'  ?"  demanded 
Springer. 

"  I  am  going  to  start  on  again.  Shall  I  put  you 
on  your  horse  before  I  go  ?" 

"You  needn't  go  off  mad,"  said  the  man,  earn 
estly,  "  'cause  every  word  I'm  tellin'  you  is  the  gos 
pel  truth.  We  got  it  all  through  Philip  !" 

"  Got  all  what  through  Philip  ?"  asked  George. 

"  I  mean  we  done  all  our  business  through  him ; 
an'  if  I  was  in  your  place,  I'd  go  home  an'  bundle 
him  outen  the  house,  neck  an'  heels.  He's  makin' 
mischief  thar,  I  tell  you.  He  told  us  we'd  find 
you  in  that  grove  on  Brown's  Run ;  an'  when  we 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  243 

didn't  find  you  thar,  we  follered  your  trail  to  Cat 
fish  Falls." 

"  But  how  did  Philip  know  I  was  going  to  that 
grove?"  demanded  George,  growing  more  and  more 
bewildered. 

"What's  the  use  of  me  tellin'  you  when  you  ±1 
get  mad?"  asked  Springer  in  reply.  "The  under- 
standin'  atween  us,  was,  that  arter  we  had  drove 
off  your  three  hundred  head  of  stock,  we  was  to 
come  over  agin,  in  a  week  or  two,  an'  we  would 
find  a  thousand  more  head  whar  we  could  get  'em 
easy." 

"  Who  was  going  to  put  them  where  you  could 
get  them  easy?" 

"  If  I  tell  you,  you'll  get  mad  at  me.  But  mind 
you,  we  wasn't  to  get  them  thousand  head  unless  we 
gobbled  you.  The  fellers  done  their  level  best,  but 
couldn't  find  you!" 

"  What  were  you  going  to  do  with  me  if  you 
found  me?" 

"  That's  something  I  can't  tell.  Nobody  but 
Fletcher  knows  that." 

"Who's  Fletcher?" 

"  He's  the  boss — the  cap'n." 

"  Who  told  you  to  gobble  me  ?" 


244  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

"  What's  the  use  of  me  tellin'  you  when  you'll  be 
sartin  to  go  off  mad  ?  You  see,  we  kalkerlated  to 
make  twenty-six  thousand  dollars  clear  by  two 
night's  work,  but  that  didn't  satisfy  us.  Philip,  he 
told  us  that  thar  was  a  whole  bit  of  gold  and  silver 
in  your  uncle's  office,  an'  we  wanted  that  too; 
so  we  slipped  down  thar,  an'  Philip,  he  opened 
the  door  an'  let  us  in." 

"Into  our  house!"  cried  George,  who  now 
learned  for  the  first  time  of  the  attack  that  had 
been  made  upon  the  rancho. 

"  Yes,  into  your  house;  but  we  didn't  get  nothing 
but  bullets  an'  one  hoss  fur  our  pains." 

"It  served  you  just  right,"  said  George,  indig 
nantly.  "  They  are  not  all  traitors  in  that  house,  I 
tell  you." 

"Not  by  no  means  they  ain't,"  said  Springer, 
with  a  knowing  shake  of  the  head.  "  One  of  the 
herders,  who  was  awake,  aroused  the  others  by 
firing  his  revolver,  an'  it's  the  biggest  wonder  in  the 
world  that  any  of  us  got  out.  We  tried  to  cut  down 
the  doors,  but  they  drove  us  off,  and  then  we  made  a 
strike  fur  Brown's  Run,  whar  we  allowed  to  find 
you.  On  the  way  we  run  into  about  five  hundred 
head  of  stock,  an'  thinkin'  that  a  bird  in  the  hand 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS  245 

was  worth  a  dozen  in  the  woods,  we  drove  'em  off. 
We  got  'em  across  the  river  all  right,  an'  dodgin' 
the  rangers  who  follered  us,  we  came  back  arter  you. 
We  found  you  too,  an'  some  of  us  got  more'n  we 
wanted,"  added  Springer,  looking  down  at  h's 
bandages  and  groaning  faintly. 

George  listened  to  all  this  in  the  greatest  amaze 
ment.  He  remembered  now,  that  just  before  he  left 
home  with  his  supplies,  his  uncle  had  questioned 
him  closely  about  some  things  in  which  he  had  pre 
viously  shown  no  interest  whatever,  and  that  he 
seemed  particularly  anxious  to  know  where  his 
nephew  expected  to  find  his  herd,  and  which  way 
Zeke  would  probably  drive  it  after  George  joined 
him.  The  boy  never  would  have  thought  of  the  cir 
cumstance  again,  if  it  had  not  been  for  this  inter 
view  with  his  father's  old  herdsman ;  but  now  it  was 
recalled  very  vividly  to  his  mind,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  confess  to  himself  that  the  half-formed  suspicions 
he  had  long  entertained  were  not  without  founda 
tion.  His  Uncle  John  was  at  the  bottom  of  all  his 
troubles,  and  Philip,  the  Mexican  cook,  was  his  con 
fidential  assistant.  The  boy's  heart  sank  within 
him  while  he  thought  about  it.  He  didn't  know 


246  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

what  to   do,   and  there  was   only  one  man   in  the 
settlement  to  whom  he  could  go  for  advice. 

"Well,  Springer,"  said  George,  suddenly,  "we 
have  wasted  time  enough.  I  have  a  long  journey 
to  make,  and  so  have  you.  I  hope  you  will  succeed 
in  getting  safely  over  the  river,  and  that  the  lesson 
you  have  received  will  be  the  means  of  making  you 
an  honest  man.  I  will  put  you  on  your  horse  and 
divide  my  provisions  with  you,  and  that  is  all  I  can 
do  for  you." 

"  An'  it's  a  heap  more  nor  any  body  else  would 
do  for  me,"  said  Springer,  gratefully.  "You  won't 
tell  none  of  the  settlers  that  you  seed  me,  will 
you?" 

"I'll  not  put  any  of  them  on  your  trail,"  replied 
the  boy.  "  I  may  be  obliged  to  say  something 
about  you ;  but  if  you  have  good  luck,  you  ought  to 
be  safe  across  the  river  before  I  reach  Mr.  Gilbert's 
house,  and  that  is  where  I  am  going." 

After  bringing  Springer  another  hatful  of  water 
from  the  bayou,  and  dividing  with  him  the  small 
supply  of  bacon  and  crackers  he  had  left,  George 
brought  up  his  horse,  and  with  infinite  difficulty 
assisted  the  man  to  mount.  Springer  groaned  a 
little  and  swore  a  great  deal  during  the  operation, 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  247 

and  being  a  heavy  man  and  almost  unable  to  help 
himself,  it  required  the  outlay  of  all  George's 
strength  to  put  him  into  the  saddle.  After  thank 
ing  the  boy  over  and  over  again  for  what  he  had 
done,  he  rode  slowly  away,  and  George  feeling  as 
though  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  worth  living 
for  now,  once  more  turned  his  face  toward  the  settle 
ment.  He  looked  back  now  and  then  to  see  how 
Springer  was  getting  on.  The  last  time  he  saw  the 
man  he  was  standing  on  the  top  of  a  high  swell 
holding  his  hat  in  his  hand.  When  he  saw  George 
looking  at  him  he  waved  it  in  the  air  and  rode  down 
the  swell  out  of  sight. 

"If  he  can  keep  in  his  saddle  for  forty-eight 
hours — and  he  would  have  no  trouble  at  all  in  doing 
it  if  it  were  not  for  his  wounds — and  can  dodge  the 
rangers  who  are  probably  out  looking  for  the  raiders, 
he  will  be  all  right,"  thought  George;  "but  if  he 
is  compelled  to  dismount.  I  don't  know  what  will 
become  of  him.  He  can't  possibly  get  on  his  horso 
again  without  help.  Now,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  am 
going  back  to  a  home  where  I  am  not  wanted." 

This  was  the  burden  of  the  boy's  thoughts  all  the 
rest  of  the  day.  He  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to 
any  course  of  action,  for  he  was  so  stunned  and 


248  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

bewildered  by  what  he  had  heard  that  he  could  not 
think  clearly.  The  only  thing  he  determined  upon 
was,  that  he  would  lay  the  case  before  Mr.  Gilbert, 
and  be  governed  by  his  advice.  Mr.  Gilbert  was  a 
wealthy  cattle-raiser  and  a  prominent  man  in  the 
settlement,  who  had  gained  his  start  in  life  through 
the  assistance  of  George's  father.  He  was  a  firm 
friend  of  the  family,  and  the  boy  knew  that  he  could 
trust  him.  Toward  his  rancho  he  directed  his  course, 
making  all  the  haste  he  could.  He  would  have  been 
glad  to  travel  all  night,  but  his  weary  limbs  de 
manded  rest,  and  when  it  grew  dark  George  was 
obliged,  much  against  his  will,  to  go  into  camp. 
He  built  a  fire  in  the  edge  of  a  belt  of  post-oaks 
that  ran  across  his  path,  and  after  gathering  fuel 
enough  to  last  all  night,  he  ate  a  very  light  supper 
and  sat  down  to  think  over  the  situation.  When 
eight  o'clock  came  he  scraped  a  few  leaves  together 
for  a  bed,  and  was  about  to  throw  himself  down  upon 
it,  when  he  was  brought  to  his  feet  by  the  clatter  of 
hoofs,  which  sounded  a  short  distance  away. 

George  seized  his  haversack  and  waited  with  a 
beating  heart  for  the  horsemen,  who  he  knew  were 
approaching  his  camp,  to  come  in  sight.  They  camo 
a  moment  later,  and  to  the  boy's  intense  relief  the 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  249 

light  from  his  fire  shone  not  upon  silver  buttons, 
gaudy  sashes  and  wide  trowsers,  but  upon  a  couple 
of  red  shirts  and  slouch  hats.  With  a  long-drawn 
sigh,  indicative  of  the  greatest  satisfaction,  George 
threw  down  his  haversack  and  stepped  forward  to 
greet  the  new  comers. 

"  Good-evening,  stranger,"  said  the  foremost 
horseman.  "  Have  you  any  objections  to  good  com 
pany  to  night?" 

"None  whatever,"  answered  George,  readily. 
"  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  have  it,  for  it  is  lonely 
work  keeping  house  all  by  one's  self." 

"We  saw  the  light  of  your  fire,"  said  the  other, 
"  and  as  we  have  got  a  little  out  of  our  reckoning, 
we  made  bold  to  come  here,  thinking  that  perhaps 
you  could  set  us  right." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  answered  George ;  "  but 
I  hope  you  have  brought  your  supper  with  you,  for 
it  is  little  I  can  offer  you." 

"  0,  that's  nothing.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing 
for  ranchemen  to  go  supperless  to  bed,  you  know. 
Where  did  you  stake  out  your  horse,  my  lad?" 

"  I  haven't  any,  sir.  He  was  stampeded  when 
the  Greasers  stole  my  cattle,  and  I  haven't  seen  him 
since." 


250  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

"  Ah  !  been  cleaned  out,  have  you  ?  That's  pro 
voking." 

The  man  said  this  in  much  the  same  tone  of  voice 
he  would  have  used  if  he  had  been  speaking  of  an 
event  that  was  of  every-day  occurrence.  They  both 
listened  while  George,  in  accordance  with  their 
request,  hurriedly  related  the  story  of  his  loss,  and 
then  staked  out  their  horses  and  came  back  to  the 
fire.  George  offered  them  what  was  left  of  his  sup 
ply  of  provisions,  but  the  ranchemen  declined  it 
with  thanks,  and  proceeded  to  fill  their  pipes. 

"  We  need  an  adventure  now  and  then  to  give  a 
little  variety  to  our  life,"  said  one  of  the  men,  after 
he  had  taken  a  few  pulls  at  his  pipe,  to  make  sure 
that  it  was  well  lighted.  "My  friend  and  I  have 
been  on  the  trail  of  a  horse-thief." 

"  Did  you  overtake  him?"  asked  George. 

"Yes;  but  we  didn't  get  the  horse,  and  we 
wanted  him  more  than  we  wanted  the  thief.  He 
had  disposed  of  the  animal,  traded  him  off  for  a 
fresher  one,  you  know,  and  we  offered  him  his 
liberty  if  he  would  tell  us  where  the  horse  was. 
He  told  us,  and  we  started  back  with  him  to  make 
sure  that  he  told  us  the  truth,  and  he  gave  us  the 
slip.  But  we  think  we  know  where  the  horse  is." 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  251 

" Is  he  anywhere  about  here  ?"    inquired  George 

"  Is  there  anybody  living  about  here  who  goes  by 
the  name  of  Ackerman  ?"  asked  the  ranchernan. 

"Yes,  there  is,"  answered  George,  opening  his 
eyes  in  great  surprise. 

"Well,  my  horse  is  at  his  rancho.  We're  going 
there  after  him,  and  we're  going  to  smash  things 
when  we  get  there,  too." 

George  was  so  utterly  confounded  that  he  could 
not  say  a  word.  He  sat  looking  from  one  to  the 
other  of  the  ranchemen,  who  fortunately  did  not 
notice  the  expression  of  astonishment  that  settled  on 
his  face.  One  of  them  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  fire,  where  he  could  not  see  the  boy,  and  the 
other  was  stretched  out  on  his  blanket,  with  his 
hands  clasped  under  his  head,  watching  the  clouds 
of  smoke  that  arose  from  his  pipe. 

"  It's  a  little  the  strangest  piece  of  business  I 
ever  heard  of,"  said  the  latter,  "and  it  doesn't  seem 
to  me  that  anybody  of  ordinary  common  sense  could 
do  such  a  thing.  The  thief  told  us  that  he  traded 
Silk  Stocking  to  a  young  fellow  who  looked  as 
though  he  might  be  going  to  a  fancy-dress  ball 
somewhere,  for  he  sported  a  buckskin  coat  with 
silver  butto-ns,  high  patent-leather  boots,  and  so  on, 


252  GEORGE    IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

and  we  saw  just  such  a  fellow  as  that  at  Ackerman's 
rancho.  We  stopped  there  and  got  fresh  horses — • 
those  nags  out  there  belong  to  Ackerman — and  took 
supper ;  and  when  we  came  out  on  the  porch  Silk 
Stocking  called  to  us.  He  was  hitched  under  an 
open  shed  a  short  distance  from  the  house.  I  recog 
nised  the  call  and  so  did  Joe ;  but  we  never  sus 
pected  anything,  and  so  we  didn't  look  into  the 
matter  as  we  ought  to  have  done." 

George  had  never  been  more  astonished  in  his  life. 
He  was  greatly  alarmed  too,  for  he  knew  that  his 
cousin  had  got  himself  into  serious  trouble.  The 
man  on  the  blanket,  who  told  the  story,  looked  like 
one  who  could  smash  things  ifjie  once  set  about  it, 
and  the  tone  of  his  voice  and  the  decided  manner  in 
which  he  puffed  at  his  pipe,  indicated  that  he  had 
fully  made  up  his  mind  to  do  it.  He  and  his  com 
panion  would  certainly  make  it  warm  for  somebody 
when  they  reached  the  rancho.  Was  there  any  way 
in  which  he  could  save  Ned  from  the  consequences 
of  his  folly  ?  George  did  not  believe  there  was,  for 
he  knew  too  well  the  estimation  in  which  horse- 
thieves  and  everybody  connected  with  them  were 
held  in  that  country ;  but  still  he  determined  to 
make  the  attempt.  Ned  was  his  cousin,  the  only 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  253 

one  he  had  in  the  world,  and  it  was  plainly  his  duty 
to  stand  by  him.  Controlling  himself  as  well  as  he 
could,  he  said : 

"You  told  me,  I  believe,  that  this  boy,  whoever 
he  is,  traded  his  horse  for  yours :  Perhaps  he  didn't 
know  it  was  stolen!" 

"Probably  he  didn't  at  the  time  he  made  the 
trade,"  replied  the  man;  "but  he  knew  it  when 
Joe  and  I  stopped  at  his  father's  rancho,  for  he 
heard  us  tell  the  story.  Why  did  he  not  give  him 
up?" 

"No  doubt  he  was  so  badly  frightened  that  he 
dared  not  do  it,"  answered  George.  "  This  boy,  I 
believe,  has  not  been  long  in  Texas,  and  he  don't 
know  much  about  the  customs  of  the  country." 

"Now  just  see  here,  stranger!"  said  the  ranche- 
man,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth  and  looking 
steadily  at  George.  "If  he  knows  anything  he'd 
ought  to  know  that  it  is  a  dangerous  piece  of  busi 
ness  for  a  man  to  have  stolen  property  in  his  posses 
sion,  knowing  it  to  be  stolen,  hadn't  he  ?" 

George  could  only  nod  his  head  in  reply.  He  had 
made  the  best  excuse  for  his  cousin  that  he  could 
think  of  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  but  it  was  a 
very  flimsy  one,  and  he  saw  plainly  that  he  could 


254  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

not  make  any  more  without  arousing  suspicion 
against  himself. 

"  It  is  my  private  opinion  that  there  is  a  regular 
nest  of  thieves  in  that  house!'7  said  the  other  ranche- 
man. 

"It's  mine,  too!"  said  the  man  in  the  blanket. 

"If  that  Ackerman  is  an  honest  fellow  why  does 
he  go  about  wearing  his  boiled  shirt  and  broadcloth 
suit  every  day  ?  The  moment  I  got  a  fair  look  at 
him  I  told  myself  that  there  was  something  wrong 
about  him.  If  that  chap  in  the  silver  buttons  was  a 
man  I'd  fix  him ;  but  seeing  that  he's  nothing  but  a 
boy,  I'll  snatch  him  so  bald-headed  that  his  hair  will 
never  grow  again,  I'll  teach  him  that  one  who 
receives  and  holds  fast  to  stolen  property,  knowing 
it  to  be  stolen,  is  as  bad  as  the  man  who  steals  it, 
and  that  the  law  holds  good  here  in  Texas  as  well  as 
it  does  in  Maine!" 

The  man  did  not  bluster  when  he  said  this — those 
who  mean  just  what  they  say  seldom  do — and  that 
was  just  what  made  George  believe  that  his  cousin 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  severely  punished.  What  the 
man  would  do  to  him  when  he  found  him,  George 
of  course  did  not  know,  and  he  dared  not  ask ;  but 
he  was  satisfied  that  it  would  be  something  Ned 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  255 

would  always  remember.  The  angry  ranclieman 
said  several  other  things  in  a  very  decided  tone  of 
voice,  all  going  to  show  that  no  boy's-play  was 
intended,  and  when  he  and  his  companion  had 
finished  their  pipes  they  arranged  their  blankets, 
bade  George  good-night,  and  lay  down  to  sleep. 
But  there  was  no  sleep  for  George.  He  was  keenly 
alive  to  Ned's  danger,  and  a  thousand  wild  schemes 
for  extricating  him  from  his  troubles  suggested  them 
selves  to  George's  busy  brain;  but  he  could  hit  upon 
only  one  thing  just  then.  If  that  succeeded  Ned's 
peril  might  be  averted  until  he  could  have  an  inter 
view  with  Mr.  Gilbert.  George  was  certain  that 
that  gentleman  could  tell  him  just  what  ought  to  be 
done. 

"  I  shall  put  myself  in  danger  by  doing  it,  but  it 
can't  be  helped,"  thought  the  boy.  "My  cousin 
must  be  saved  at  all  hazards ;  and  if  these  men,  or 
any  of  the  settlers,  want  to  take  revenge  on  me  for 
putting  him  out  of  harm's  way,  they  are  welcome  to 
do  it.  How  easy  it  is  to  get  into  trouble  and  how 
hard  it  is  to  get  out  of  it !" 

With  this  reflection  George  scraped  his  bed  of 
leaves  a  little  closer  together,  threw  another  stick  of 
wood  on  the  fire,  and  tried  to  follow  his  two  guesta 


256  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

into  the  land  of  dreams ;  but  the  sleep  he  so  much 
needed  to  prepare  him  for  the  next  day's  journey 
would  not  come  at  his  bidding.  All  the  night  long 
he  tossed  restlessly  about  on  his  hard  couch,  and 
about  half  an  hour  before  daylight  sank  into  an 
uneasy  slumber. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  257 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

GOOD    AND    BAD    NEWS. 

George  awoke  it 'was  just  daylight. 
The  ranchemen  were  already  stirring,  and 
one  was  folding  the  blankets,  while  the  other  was 
punching  up  the  fire  to  obtain  a  light  for  his  pipe. 

"  Good-morning,  iny  lad,"  said  the  latter,  cheer 
fully.  "  We  thought,  seeing  we  had  no  breakfast 
to  eat,  that  we  would  solace  ourselves  with  a  smoke. 
Now,  if  you  will  put  us  on  our  course,  we  shall  be 
much  obliged  to  you." 

"  The  rancho  you  want  to  reach  lies  directly  east 
of  here  and  is  about  thirty -five  miles  distant,"  an 
swered  George,  after  he  had  returned  the  man's 
greeting.  "  Hold  a  straight  course  for  the  sun, 
until  you  strike  a  big  trail  running  north  and  south. 
Turn  south  on  that  trail,  and  when  you  have  fol 
lowed  it  about  ten  miles,  you  will  strike  Mr.  Gil 
bert's  rancho.  He  will  direct  you  the  rest  of  the 
way.  I  have  thought  a  good  deal  about  what  you 
17 


258  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

told  me  last  night,  and  I  can't  understand  why  that 
boy  kept  that  horse." 

"Neither  can  I,"  said  the  rancheman. 

"As  he  is  a  boy,  I  hope  you  will  be  easy  with 
him,"  continued  George. 

"  I  will ;  but  the  next  time  he  sees  a  stolen  horse 
he  will  run  from  it,  I  bet  you !" 

It  was  plain  that  the  rancheman  had  not  yet 
relented,  and  that  he  never  would  relent ;  so 
George  fell  back  on  the  plan  he  had  determined 
upon  the  night  before. 

"Yes,  the  boy  needs  a  lesson,"  said  he;  "but 
for  his  father's  sake,  I  hope  you  will  not  be  too 
severe.  I  have  been  acquainted  with  Mr.  Dicker- 
man  for  a  long  time,  and  I  know  him  to  be  an 
honest  man.  You  needn't  think  he  would " 

"Dickerman!"  interrupted  the  man  who  had 
been  called  Joe.  "  Who  said  anything  about  Dick- 
erman  ?  Ackerrnan  is  the  fellow  we  are  talking 

o 

about." 

•'  0,  -Ackerman !"  repeated  George,  with  a  tone 
of  voice  and  an  expression  of  countenance  which  led 
the  man  to  believe  that  he  had  all  the  while  been 
mistaken  as  to  the  identity  of  the  person  they 
wanted  to  find.  "Well,  you  don't  want  to  travel 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  259 

east,  then.  Your  course  lays  off  here,"  he  added, 
pointing  almost  due  north.  "  If  you  ride  in  that 
direction,  you  ought  by  dark  to  strike  some  of  the 
ranches  in  the  settlement  in  which  this  man  lives." 

"  Then  we  were  completely  turned  around,  Joe. 
I  thought  we  ought  to  travel  that  way,"  said  one 
of  the  men,  pointing  almost  directly  toward  the 
Ackerman  rancho.  "  Well,  my  lad,  good-by. 
Many  thanks  for  your  information,  and  the  best 
of  luck  to  you  !" 

The  men  mounted  their  horses,  which  they  had 
brought  in  and  saddled  while  this  conversation  was 
going  on,  and  rode  away,  leaving  George  standing 
beside  his  fire.  As  soon  as  they  disappeared  behind 
the  nearest  ridge,  he  caught  up  his  haversack, 
plunged  into  the  woods  and  drew  a  straight  course 
for  home.  His  face  was  whiter  than  it  usually  was, 
and  his  heart  beat  audibly. 

"  I  did  it,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  hurried 
along,  "  and  whether  or  not  I  have  done  any  good 
by  it,  time  will  tell.  If  they  don't  get  off  their 
course,  they'll  reach  Dickerman's  to-night  about 
dark,  arid  then  they'll  find  out  that  they  have  been 
put  on  a  wrong  scent,  and  gone  forty  miles  out  of 
their  way.  Dickerman  will  set  them  right,  and  the 


260  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

question  is :  Can  I  see  Mr.  Gilbert  and  reach  homo 
before  they  can  get  there  ?  I  never  needed  a  horse 
BO  badly  before." 

Little  did  Ned  Ackerman,  who  spent  this  partic 
ular  day  in  company  with  his  friend  Gus  Bobbins, 
shooting  down  the  cattle  that  had  broken  into  his 
wheat-field,  know  of  the  race  that  was  begun  that 
morning — a  race  between  a  pair  of  swift  horses, 
which  had  between  seventy  and  eighty  miles  to 
travel,  and  a  frightened,  panting  and  foot-sore  boy, 
who  dragged  himself  wearily  over  thirty-five  miles 
of  prairie,  to  save  a  scape-grace  relative,  who  would 
not  have  lifted  a  finger  in  behalf  of  that  same  weary 
boy,  had  their  situations  been  reversed.  The  odds 
were  sadly  against  George.  He  could  have  spent  a 
week  in  the  saddle  with  little  or  no  inconvenience, 
but  three  days  on  foot  tested  his  endurance  to  the 
utmost.  Nothing  but  his  will  kept  him  up.  He 
won  the  race,  but,  as  we  shall  see,  with  little  time 
to  spare. 

As  the  day  wore  away,  and  George  drew  nearer 
to  Mr.  Gilbert's  rancho,  which  was  the  first  one  he 
would  reach  on  his  way  to  the  settlement,  he  kept  a 
good  lookout  for  some  of  that  gentleman's  herdsmen, 
hoping  that  he  could  prevail  upon  them  to  lend  him 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  261 

a  horse ;  but  as  he  did  not  see  any  of  them,  he  was 
compelled  to  make  the  entire  journey  on  foot.  He 
reached  his  destination  shortly  after  nightfall,  and 
found  Mr.  Gilbert  sitting  on  the  porch,  enjoying  his 
after-supper  pipe.  The  gentleman  started  up  in 
surprise,  when  he  saw  George  approaching,  and 
hurried  down  the  steps  to  meet  him.  His  greeting 
was  as  cordial  and  friendly  as  usual,  but  there  was 
something  in  his  manner  that  the  boy  had  never 
noticed  before.  He  could  not  have  told  what  it  was, 
but  he  could  see  it  plainly. 

"  Come  right  in,  George,"  said  he,  seizing  the 
boy's  hand  and  shaking  it  heartily.  "  You  walk  as 
though  you  were  completely  tired  out ;  so  I'll  not 
trouble  you  with  questions  until  you've  had  a  sup 
per  and  a  good  night's  rest." 

"  I  would  be  thankful  for  some  supper,"  replied 
George,  "  but  I  can't  stay  all  night.  I  am  in  an 
wful  hurry." 

"  And  why  should  you  be  in  such  an  awful 
hurry,  I'd  like  to  know  ?"  said  Mr.  Gilbert,  as  he 
assisted  George  up  the  steps  and  led  him  into  the 
house.  "  Here's  an  easy-chair,  and  I  know  you 
find " 

"Not   in   there,   please,"  said  George,  drawing 


262  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

back  as  Mr.  Gilbert  was  about  to  open  the  door 
leading  into  the  cosy  living-room,  in  which  his 
family  was  assembled.  "  Let's  go  into  the  office. 
I  have  S3mething  particular  to  say  to  you." 

Again  George  told  himself  that  Mr.  Gilbert  did 
not  act  as  he  usually  did.  He  turned  at  once,  and 
leading  the  way  into  the  office,  closed  and  locked 
the  door;  after  which  he  took  the  boy's  hat  and 
haversack,  and  having  placed  him  on  the  lounge, 
drew  a  chair  up  in  front  of  him  and  sat  down. 

"Where  did  you  hear  of  it,  George?"  said  he. 
"But  hold  on  a  moment,"  he  added,  hastily. 
"Let's  talk  about  pleasant  things  first.  Your  horse 
and  mule  are  here  in  my  corral." 

"  Good !"  exclaimed  George.  "  I  shall  need 
Ranger  at  once.  I  would  thank  you  to  lend  me  a 
saddle  and  bridle,  and  have  him  brought  to  the  door 
without  loss  of  time." 

"If  you  must  go  on  to-night,  I'll  do  it,"  said  Mr. 
Gilbert,  rising  to  his  feet;  "but  you  must  have 
some  supper  first." 

He  left  the  office  as  he  ceased  speaking,  and 
George  lay  down  on  the  lounge  to  rest  for  a  few 
minutes.  He  was  used  to  hard  work,  but  he  had 
never  before  been  so  nearly  exhausted.  It  did  not 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  263 

seem  to  him  that  he  could  possibly  spend  the  rest  of 
the  night  in  the  saddle,  and  yet  he  knew  he  must  do 
it  in  order  to  save  his  cousin. 

Mr.  Gilbert  was  gone  but  a  few  minutes,  and 
when  he  came  back,  he  locked  the  door  behind  him. 

"Another  piece  of  good  news  I  have  for  you, 
George,"  said  he,  as  he  resumed  his  seat,  "is  that 
all  your  cattle  have  been  recovered,  and  one  of  my 
men  is  now  pasturing  them  on  my  ranche,  about 
three  miles  from  here." 

"  Good  again  !"  exclaimed  George,  brightening  a 
little.  "  That  is  encouraging  news  indeed." 

"That  Zeke  is  worth  two  or  three  ordinary  men," 
continued  Mr.  Gilbert.  "  Not  being  able  to  find 
any  signs  of  you  or  your  horse  after  the  Greasers 
jumped  down  on  you,  he  struck  out  for  the  settle 
ments  on  foot.  On  the  way  he  fell  in  with  a  party 
of  rangers,  and  with  their  assistance,  he  succeeded 
in  cutting  the  thieves  off  from  the  river  and  recap 
turing  every  hoof  you  had  lost.  He  came  down 
here  with  the  cattle,  chuckling  over  his  good  luck, 
and  was  frightened  almost  out  of  his  senses  when  ho 
found  that  your  horse  and  mule  had  come  here  with 
out  you.  He  begged  me  to  take  care  of  the  herd 
while  he  went  back  to  look  for  you,  and  I  have  done 


264  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

so.  Where  were  you  all  the  while,  George  ?  You 
haven't  walked  all  the  way  from  Catfish  Falls?" 

"  I  was  hidden  in  a  buffalo  wallow  while  the  rob 
bers  were  in  our  camp,  and  I  have  walked  every 
step  of  the  way  from  there.  But  I  don't  mind  that. 
What  troubles  me  is  the  bad  news  I  heard  on  the 
way.  I  have  come  here  to  talk  to  you  about  it,  for 
you  are  the  only  friend  I  have  in  the  settlement.' 

"0  no,  George;  don't  say  that,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Gilbert,  quickly.  "  If  you  knew  what  a  commotion 
your  disappearance  has  created  among  the  neighbors, 
you  wouldn't  talk  so.  Everybody  likes  you  and 
everybody  is  a  friend  to  you." 

"I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  George,  draw 
ing  a  long  breath  of  relief  and  looking  a  little  more 
cheerful.  "  I  want  them  to  show  their  friendship 
now,  and  not  be  too  hard  on  Ned.  You  know  what 
I  mean." 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Gilbert,  heaving  a  deep  sigh 
and  fastening  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  "  I  know  all 
about  it.  The  settlers  are  going  to  meet  at  Cook's 
to-morrow  and  talk  it  over.  They  are  very  angry, 
and  I  don't  know  what  they  will  make  up  their 
minds  to  do.' 

"  Are  you  going  to  be  at  Cook's  with  them  ?" 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  265 

"Of  course.  I  am  as  much  inteicsted  in  the 
matter  as  anybody." 

"  Well,  you  will  do  your  best  for  Ned,  won't 
you?  He  is  my  cousin,  you  know.  You  won't  let 
them  hurt  him,  will  you  ?" 

"I'll  do  the  best  I  can,  certainly;  but  you  might 
as  well  try  to  stem  the  Rio  Grande  with  a  straw,  as 
to  stand  in  the  way  of  a  whole  settlement,  when 
every  man  in  it  has  made  up  his  mind  to  a  par 
ticular  course  of  action.  It  was  a  most  outrageous 
act,  and  Ned  richly  deserves  punishment." 

"I  know  it;  but  if  the  settlers  are  such  friends 
to  me  they  will  let  him  off  this  time,  and  I'll 
promise  that  he  will  never  do  the  like  again. 
Remember,  Mr.  Gilbert,  that  he  is  young  and 
foolish,  and  that  when  the  horse  came  into  his  pos 
session  he  didn't  know  it  was  stolen." 

"Horse!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gilbert,  opening  his 
eyes.  "  Stolen !  What  are  you  talking  about, 
George !" 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Mr.  Gilbert?" 
asked  the  boy,  slowly  raising  himself  on  his  elbow, 
and  gazing  steadily  into  the  face  of  his  friend. 

"  Why,  I  refer  to  something  that  happened  this 
afternoon  in  Ned's  wheat  field,  when  Ned  and  that 


266  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

Yankee  friend  of  his  shot  down  Cook's  cattle," 
answered  Mr.  Gilbert. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  George,  jumping  to  his  feet 
in  great  excitement.  "  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that 
Ned  has  been  shooting  stock  ?" 

"  That's  just  what  he  has  done,  and  that  is  what 
I  was  talking  about.  Cook  caught  him  in  the  very 
act." 

"Worse  and  worse!"  said  George,  sinking  back 
on  the  lounge  again.  "Tell  me  all  about  it.  •! 
want  to  hear  the  whole  story  so  that  I  may  know 
just  how  to  act." 

"That  is  all  there  is  to  tell,"  was  Mr.  Gilbert's 
reply.  "  Ned  and  his  friend  found  Cook's  cattle  in 
the  wheat  field,  and  shot  two  of  them,  killing  one 
and  severely  wounding  the  other." 

"He  did  it  with  his  eyes  open,"  said  George. 
"  He  has  often  threatened  it,  and  I  told  him  just 
what  would  happen." 

"You  said  something  about  a  horse."  remarked 
Mr.  Gilbert,  when  the  boy  paused 

"Yes.  Ned  met  a  stranger  somewhere  and  traded 
horses  with  him ;  and  when  the  owner  came  to 
our  rancho  that  night,  Ned  wouldn't  give  the  horse 
ap." 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  267 

"  That  is  something  I  hadn't  heard  of,"  said  Mr, 
Gilbert,  while  an  expression  of  surprise  and  anxiety 
settled  on  his  face.  "  Now,  tell  me  your  story  from 
beginning  to  end.  If  you  want  my  advice  I  must 
know  everything." 

George  had  a  good  deal  to  tell,  but  he  did  not 
consume  much  time  with  his  narrative,  for  every 
moment  was  precious.  He  knew  that  the  two  ranche- 
rnen  had  by  this  time  been  made  acquainted  with 
the  deception  that  had  been  practised  upon  them, 
and  no  doubt  they  were  at  that  very  minute  on  their 
way  to  Mr.  Gilbert's  rancho.  It  was  necessary  that 
George  should  be  well  on  his  way  home  before  they 
arrived,  both  to  escape  the  vengeance  they  would 
doubtless  visit  upon  him  if  they  chanced  to  meet 
him,  and  also  to  warn  his  cousin.  He  described  the 
attack  on  the  camp,  and  told  how  he  had  concealed 
himself  in  the  buffalo  wallow  and  watched  the  raiders 
while  they  were  searching  the  woods.  He  told  of 
his  accidental  meeting  with  Springer,  and  repeated, 
as  nearly  as  he  could,  all  the  conversation  he  had 
had  with  him,  so  that  Mr.  Gilbert  might  be  enabled 
to  judge  whether  or  not  his  suspicions  concerning 
Uncle  John  were  correct.  He  also  repeated  the  con 
versation  he  had  had  with  the  ranchemen  who  spent 


268  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  night  in  his  camp,  and  told  what  he  had  done  to 
put  them  on  the  wrong  scent. 

"I  didn't  have  more  than  half  an  hour's  sleep 
last  night,"  said  George,  in  conclusion.  "  I  lay 
awake  turning  these  matters  over  in  my  mind,  and 
I  have  thought  about  them  all  day.  The  decision  at 
which  I  arrived  was,  that  Ned  was  not  safe  here  in 
the  settlement,  and  that  I  had  better  take  him  out  on 
the  plains  for  a  few  weeks  and  let  this  affair  of  the 
stolen  horse  blow  over;  but  if  he  has  been  shooting 
cattle,  I  think  I  had  better  show  him  the  nearest 
way  to  the  coast  and  let  him  go  north,  where  he 
came  from." 

Mr.  Gilbert  heard  him  through  without  inter 
ruption,  and  when  the  boy  ceased  speaking  he 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  looked  up  at  a  picture 
hanging  on  the  wall  over  the  lounge  and  rubbed 
his  chin  meditatively.  Then  he  'arose  and  walked 
up  and  down  the  room  with  his  hands  behind  his 
back  and  his  eyes  fastened  thoughtfully  on  the 
floor. 

"  I  don't  think  you  could  decide  upon  a  better 
plan,"  said  he,  at  length.  u  Take  them  both  to  the 
coast  by  the  shortest  route,  put  them  aboard  a 
steamer  and  let  them  go  north  on  a  visit.  Ned  can 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  260 

come  back  after  the  matter  is  forgotten,  but  when 
that  Yankee  friend  of  his  gets  home,  he  had  better 
stay  there.  We  have  no  use  for  fellows  of  his 
stamp  down  here.  Your  uncle  can  perhaps  settle 
the  matter  by  giving  up  the  stolen  horse,  paying  his 
owner  for  the  trouble  he  has  had,  and  also  paying 
Cook  for  the  cattle  that  were  shot.  And  in  regard 
to  yourself,  you  had  better  apply  for  a  new  guardian 
at  once." 

"I  should  be  only  too  glad  to  do  so,"  replied 
George,  eagerly,  "  for  home  isn't  home  to  me  any 
longer.  But  there's  one  question  I  want  to  ask 
you,  Mr.  Gilbert :  If  I  should  apply  for  a  new 
guardian,  would  any  of  these  things  I  have  told  you 
about  Uncle  John  become  known — I  mean  the  plans 
he  has  laid  to  get  me  out  of  the  way,  so  that  the 
property  would  fall  to  Ned?" 

"Probably  they  would.  The  thing  would  have 
to  be  done  by  process  of  law,  for  it  is  your  father's 
will  that  gives  him  the  property  in  trust  and  makes 
him  your  guardian." 

"  Then  I'll  not  have  a  new  guardian  !"  said 
George. 

Mr.  Gilbert  stopped  and  looked  at  the  boy  in 
great  surprise. 


270  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

U0,  I  mean  it,"  said  George,  decidedly.  "I'll 
not  disgrace  the  only  brother  my  father  ever  had. 
He  may  do  better  after  a  while." 

"You  are  the  most  confiding  boy  I  ever  saw/' 
said  Mr.  Gilbert. 

"  You  must  remember  that  I  have  nothing  but 
Springer's  word  for  all  this,"  continued  George, 
"  and  Springer  is  a  rascal,  who  would  just  as  soon 
tell  a  lie  as  eat  a  good  dinner.  I  shall  satisfy  my 
self  of  the  truth  of  his  story  before  I  make  any 
move  in  the  matter." 

"  Well,  keep  your  eyes  open  and  look  out  for 
treachery  while  you  are  doing  it,"  said  Mr.  Gilbert. 
"It  is  my  opinion  that  you  would  be  safer  any 
where  in  the  world  than  you  are  here  in  Texas. 
If  I  were  in  your  place,  and  was  determined  to  let 
Uncle  John  stay  where  he  is,  I  would  go  off  some 
where  and  stay  until  I  became  of  age.  Eisten ! 
What's  that?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Gilbert,  holding  up 
his  finger  w*arningly. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs  on  the  hard  trail  came  faintly 
to  their  ears.  It  grew  louder  every  instant,  and 
presently  a  couple  of  horsemen  galloped  around  the 
building  at  full  speed  and  drew  rein  beside  the 
porch  in  front  of  the  lighted  windows  of  the  office. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  271 

"  Hallo,  the  house  !"  came  the  hail,  in  stentorian 
tones. 

George  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  his  face  grew  as 
pale  as  death. 

"There  they  are!"  he  exclaimed,  in  an  excited 
whisper.  • 

"  I  was  in  hopes  they  would  not  come  until  you 
were  well  on  your  way  h'ome,"  said  Mr.  Gilbert,  in 
the  same  low  whisper.  "  It  wouldn't  be  safe  for 
you  t6  fall  into  their  hands." 

"  I  don't  care  for  myself,"  replied  George. 
"But,  Mr.  Gilbert,  if  you  don't  do  something  for 
Ned  now " 

"Don't  get  excited.  Stay  in  here  and  trust 
to  me.  I  have  seen  persons  in  tight  places  before 
to-night,  and  I  know  just  what  you  want  me  to 
do." 

George  found  a  world  of  encouragement  in  these 
words.  He  sank  back  on  the  lounge  again,  while 
Mr.  Gilbert  hurried  out  of  the  office,  locking  the 
door  behind  him.  George  heard  him  pass  along 
tht  hall  and  open  the  door  that  led  to  the  porch. 

"Good-evening,  stranger!"  exclaimed  a  voice, 
which  the  boy  knew  belonged  to  the  owner  of  the 
stolen  horse.  "Is  this  Mr.  Gilbert's  rancho?" 


272  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "Get  down  and 
walk  in." 

"  Thank  you ;  we  can't  stop.  We  would  be 
obliged  if  you  would  put  us  on  the  road  to  Acker- 
man's." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  can't  direct  you  so  that  you  can 
find  your  way  there  in  the  dark.  There  are  a  good 
many  trails  branching  off  the  main  road.  Better 
come  in  and  wait  until  morning." 

"  We  can't  do  it.     We  are  in  a  great  hurry%" 

"  Then  wait  until  the  moon  rises,  and  I  will  send 
a  man  to  show  you  the  way.  Have  you  ridden  far 
to-day?" 

"  We  have  just  come  from  Dickerman's." 

"  Then  you  and  your  nags  need  food  and  rest. 
Here,  Tom  !  take  these  horses." 

George  heard  the  men  dismount  on  the  porch, 
and  presently  heavy  steps  sounded  in  the  hall.  He 
caught  the  words  " Ackerman's,"  "regular  nest  of 
horse-thieves,"  "get  my  hands  on  that  rascally  boy 
who  sent  us  so  far  out  of  our  course,"  and  then  the 
closing  of  a  door  shut  out  the  voices.  After  a  few 
minutes'  silence,  during  which  George  could  plainly 
hear  the  beating  of  his  own  heart,  footsteps  once 
more  sounded  in  the  hall,  the  cbor  was  unlocked 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  273 

and  Mr.  Gilbert  came  in.  He  sliook  his  finger 
warningly  at  George,  and,  without  saying  a  word, 
seized  his  haversack  and  hurried  out  again.  In 
about  five  minutes  he  came  back,  and  George  could 
see  that  there  was  something  in  the  haversack. 

"You'll  have  to  eat  your  supper  as  you  go  along," 
said  Mr.  Gilbert,  in  a  cautious  whisper.  "I  have 
tried  to  reason  with  them  but  it  is  of  no  use.  Some 
body  has  told  them  that  Ned  has  been  shooting  cattle, 
and  they  declare  that  they  are  going  to  make  an 
example  of  him." 

"What  do  you  suppose  they  will  do?"  asked 
George. 

"Haven't  even  the  shadow  of  an  idea.  The  least 
they  can  do  with  him  is  to  put  him  in  jail  as  a 
receiver  of  stolen  property ;  but  they  act  as  though 
they  were  going  to  take  the  law  into  their  own 
hands,  and  for  that  reason  I  think  you  had  better 
get  Ned  out  of  the  way.  As  soon  as  they  have 
eaten  supper  I  am  going  to  send  a  man  to  guide 
them  to  your  house,  so  you'll  have  to  ride  fast.  I'll 
delay  them  in  every  way  I  can,  but  they  are  very 
impatient.  Your  horse  is  at  the  porch  on  the  other 
side  of  the  rancho.  Keep  me  posted  as  to  your 

movements,  and  I'll  keep  you  posted  in  all  that  goes 
18 


274  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

on  in  the  settlement.  Good-by,  and  good  luck  to 
you." 

George  slung  his  haversack  over  his  shoulder, 
shook  Mr.  Gilbert  warmly  by  the  hand  and  hurriedly 
left  the  office.  He  found  the  horse  at  the  end  of  the 
porch,  saddled  and  bridled,  and  Bony  was  cropping 
the  grass  a  little  distance  away.  Both  the  animals 
recognised  and  welcomed  him,  one  uttering  a  low 
whinny  and  the  other  a  suppressed  bray,  and  the 
man  who  was  holding  the  horse  nodded  his  head 
vigorously  and  patted  George  on  the  back  as  if  to 
say  that  he  knew  all  about  it. 

"  I  am  to  show  them  the  way,"  whispered  the 
herdsman.  "Them  trails  twist  an'  turn  about  a 
good  deal,  an'  mebbe  I'll  get  lost :  I'm  a'most  afeard 
I  will,  'kase  it's  so  dark." 

"There's  one  thing  about  it,"  said  George,  to 
himself,  as  he  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly 
away  from  the  rancho  after  taking  a  cordial  leave 
of  the  herdsman.  "If  I  have  no  other  friends  in 
the  settlement,  I  have  some  here  at  Mr.  Gilbert's. 
They  are  all  on  my  side.  So  Ned  has  been  shoot 
ing  cattle!  He  always  said  he'd  like  to  see  a 
'neighborhood  row,'  and  now  I'll  see  whether  oi 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  275 

not  he  lias  the  pluck  to  face  the  consequences  of  his 
foolish  act." 

George  kept  his  horse  by  the  side  of  the  trail 
until  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  house,  and  then  put 
ting  him  into  a  gallop  went  ahead  with  all  his  speed, 
Bony  following  close  behind.  Ranger  knew  the  road 
and  kept  it  without  any  guidance  from  his  master. 

The  ten  miles  that  lay  between  Mr.  Gilbert's  and 
his  home  were  quickly  passed  over,  and  as  George 
drew  near  to  the  end  of  his  ride  he  gradually 
slackened  his  pace  and  became  cautious  in  his  move 
ments.  There  was  one  man  about  the  house  who 
seemed  to  have  a  way  of  finding  out  everything  that 
went  on  there,  and  who,  George  told  himself,  must 
know  nothing  whatever  of  this  night's  work.  Philip 
might  be  his  Uncle  John's  confidential  assistant,  as 
Springer  had  intimated,  and  then  again  he  might 
not;  but  even  if  he  were,  it  was  not  at  all  likely 
that  Uncle  John  would  care  to  have  him  know  that 
Ned  had  got  himself  into  such  serious  trouble  as 
this,  and  George's  object  was  to  warn  his  cousin  and 
his  guest,  and  get  them  out  of  the  house  and  into 
the  saddle  before  Philip  knew  anything  about  it. 
lie  first  made  his  way  to  the  corral,  intending  to 
put  Bony  in  there ;  but  the  gate  had  already  beec 


2T6  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

locked  for  the  night.  Then  he  turned  his  horse 
loose  to  drink  and  made  his  way  cautiously  to  the 
house,  at  the  door  of  which  he  was  met  by  one 
of  the  herdsman,  who  started  back  in  surprise  at  the 
sight  of  him.  Every  one  about  the  rancho  had  given 
him  up  for  lost. 

"Why,  George,"  exclaimed  the  man,  springing 
forward  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  himself,  and 
extending  both  hands  toward  the  boy,  "you  don't 
know  how  glad — Eh  ?" 

"Not  a  loud  word,"  whispered  George,  raising 
his  finger  warningly.  "  Jake,  you  are  one  of 
father's  old  herdsmen,  and  I  know  I  can  trust  you. 
My  cousin  has  got  himself  into  a  scrape,  and  it  is 
necessary  that  he  should  leave  here  at  once.  I  want 
you  to  saddle  a  couple  of  horses,  and  bring  them  to 
the  door  and  assist  me  to  get  Ned  and  his  friend  out 
of  the  house  without  Philip's  knowledge.  That 
Philip  is  a  born  rascal,  Jake." 

"  I  was  sartin  of  it,"  whispered  the  herdsman. 
"  Me  an'  the  rest  have  always  suspicioned  that  he 
let  the  Greasers  in  here  that  night,  for  we  know  the 
door  was  locked.  But  what's  the  matter  with  Ned?" 

"  I  can't  stop  to  tell  you  now.  It's  all  over  the 
settlement,  and  you  will  know  everything  to-morrow. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  277 

Now  go  into  the  kitchen  and  keep  Philip  there  until 
I  can  reach  the  office ;  then  saddle  up  and  keep  a 
bright  lookout  for  a  couple  of  horsemen.  If  you 
hear  anybody  coming  down  the  trail,  let  me  know," 

The  man  hastened  away  to  obey  these  orders,  and 
as  soon  as  George  heard  the  door  of  the  kitchen 
close  behind  him,  he  ran  on  tip-toe  toward  the  office. 
The  peals  of  laughter  that  fell  upon  his  ear,  told 
him  that  there  was  a  happy  party  in  there,  and 
George  wondered  how  the  members  of  it  would  feel 
when  they  heard  the  news  he  had  to  tell.  Excited 
and  anxious  as  he  was  when  he  opened  the  door,  he 
could  still  take  note  of  the  fact  that  his  presence 
there  was  most  unwelcome.  He  saw  it  plainly 
enough.  Uncle  John  and  Ned  were  very  much  sur 
prised  by  his  abrupt  entrance,  and  there  was  not  the 
least  cordiality  in  their  greeting.  George  watched 
his  uncle's  face  and  actions  closely,  and  told  him 
self  that  Springer's  story  was  nothing  but  the  truth. 

"Why,  George,  what  is  the  matter?"  asked 
Uncle  John,  growing  alarmed  when  he  saw  how 
pale  and  nervous  his  nephew  was.  "  Any  bad 
news?" 

"Yes,  I  have  bad  news.  Ned,  you  and  your 
friend  must  pack  up  and  leave  this  rancho  and  this 


278  GEORGE    IN    CAMr;    OR, 

county,  too,  without  the  loss  of  an  hour's  time,"  wag 
the  astounding  reply.  "  You  are  in  danger,  and  I 
have  put  myself  in  danger  by  coming  here  to  tell 
you  of  it!" 

"Why,  George,"  exclaimed  Uncle  John,  sinking 
back  in  his  chair,  almost  overwhelmed  with  amaze 
ment  and  alarm,  "explain  yourself.  I  don't  under 
stand  you  at  all.  Why  should  Ned  and  Gus  be  in 
danger?" 

"  Because  they  have  deliberately  placed  them 
selves  there,"  answered  George,  locking  the  door  to 
prevent  interruption,  and  at  the  same  time  lowering 
his  voice,  so  that  he  could  not  be  overheard  by  any 
eavesdropper  who  might  chance  to  pass  through  the 
hall.  "Ned,  the  owner  of  that  stolen  horse  is 
between  here  and  Mr.  Gilbert's.  He's  looking  for 
you." 

Ned's  face  grew  as  white  as  a  sheet.  He  grasped 
the  back  of  his  chair  and  leaned  heavily  on  it  for 
support,  while  Uncle  John  started  up  in  his  seat 
and  looked  first  at  George  and  then  at  his  son.  The 
look  of  alarm  on  his  face  had  given  away  to  an 
expression  of  intense  astonishment. 

"Stolen  horse!"  he  exclaimed.  "Looking  for 
Ned  !  What  do  you  mean  ?" 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  279 

"You  remember  those  two  men  who  came  here 
one  night,  searching  for  a  horse  they  called  Silk 
Stocking,  don't  you?"  said  George.  "Well,  the 
horse  was  here  in  Ned's  possession  all  the  while, 
and  the  owner  has  found  it  out.  He  and  his  com 
panion  are  on  their  way  here  now." 

"Ned,"  said  Uncle  John,  "you  told  me  that  you 
hadn't  seen  that  horse." 

"I  know  it,"  wrhined  the  frightened  boy.  "I 
wanted  to  keep  him." 

"But  after  you  found  out  he  was  stolen,  why 
didn't  you  give  him  up  ?"  demanded  his  father. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  men  would  do  something  to 
me,"  gasped  Ned.  "They  looked  so  awful  mad!" 

"You  only  made  a  bad  matter  worse!"  said 
George.  "  They  will  do  something  to  you  now,  if 
they  catch  you,  and  they  are  bound  to  do  it  if  they 
can!" 

"  Wh — what  will  they  do?"  stammered  the  cul 
prit. 

"  They  may  put  you  in  jail !" 

"Gracious!"  gasped  Ned.  He  walked  rapidly 
across  the  floor  once  or  twice  and  then  came  back 
and  caught  hold  of  his  chair  again.  IT  is  strength 


280  GEORGE   IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

was  all  frightened  out  of  him,  and  he  could  not  long 
keep  his  feet  without  a  support  of  some  kind. 

"  But  Mr.  Gilbert  thinks  they  are  going  to  take 
the  law  into  their  own  hands,  as  people  very  often 
do  it  in  this  country,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  am  so 
anxious  to  get  you  away  from  here,"  continued 
George.  "  And  that  isn't  all.  You  and  your 
friend  have  been  shooting  cattle  this  afternoon  !" 

"It  isn't  so!  It  isn't  so!"  cried  Ned,  with  so 
much  earnestness  that  he  condemned  himself  on  the 
spot.  "Is  it,  Gus?" 

"No!"  replied  Gus,  in  a  feeble  voice. 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  cattle  to-day !"  declared 
Ned,  gathering  a  little  courage  as  he  proceeded. 
"  I  haven't  been  near  my  wheat  field  for  a  week ! 
Somebody  else  did  it;  didn't  they,  Gus?" 

The  latter,  made  no  reply.  He  did  not  even  act 
as  though  he  heard  the  question,  and  probably  he 
did  not,  for  he  was  frightened  almost  out  of  his 
wits. 

"  All  I  know  is,  that  Mr.  Cook  lost  two  steers  to 
day,  and  that  he  saw  you  shoot  them,"  said  George. 
"  Tie  has  been  around  to  see  all  the  neighbors  about 
it,  and  you  will  hear  from  them  before  this  time  to 
morrow  if  you  are  in  this  house!" 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  281 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  they  will  do?"  asked 
Uncle  John,  who  seemed  to  be  as  badly  frightened 
as  Ned  was. 

"Not  the  slightest;  but  they  will  make  it  warm 
for  Ned  in  some  way,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  He 
has  raised  a  storm,  and  Mr.  Gilbert's  advice  to  him 
is  to  get  out  of  reach  of  it.  It  is  my  advice,  too." 

Just  then  somebody  tapped  lightly  on  the  door. 
George  turned  the  key,  the  door  opened  a  little  way 
and  Jake,  the  herdsman,  thrust  his  head  in. 

"  They're  comin',"  said  he,  in  a  thrilling  whisper. 
"  I  can  hear  their  horses  a-gallopin  !" 

This  startling  announcement  seemed  to  take  the 
courage  out  of  everybody  except  George.  Uncle 
John  and  the  two  trembling  culprits  sank  helplessly 
into  the  nearest  chairs,  their  faces  betraying  the 
utmost  consternation. 


282  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WHAT   HAPPENED   AT   THE    RANCHO. 

TOW  far  away  are  they,  Jake  ?"  asked  George, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  only  one  besides  the 
herdsman  who  had  any  of  his  wits  left  about  him. 

"  They're  so  fur  off  that  I  couldn't  have  heard  'em 
at  all  if  the  wind  hadn't  brought  the  sound  of  their 
horses'  feet  to  me,"  was  the  herdsman's  answer. 
"  But  they're  comin'  fast,  an'  they'll  be  here  in  five 
minutes.  The  horses  are  waitin'  at  the  door  !" 

"  You  have  not  an  instant  to  lose,'"  said  our  hero, 
turning  to  the  frightened  boys  and  speaking  as  rap 
idly  as  he  could. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  them,  George  ?" 
asked  Uncle  John,  as  soon  as  he  had  recovered  the 
use  of  his  tongue. 

"  I  intend  to  show  them  the  way  to  the  coast — we 
fehall  probably  bring  up  at  Brownsville — and  send 
them  up  north.  But  you  will  have  plenty  of  time 
to  communicate  with  us  after  we  get  out  of  harm's 
way,  and  we  can  then  decide  what  ought  to  be  done 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  283 

Mr.  Gilbert  thinks  Ned  can  come  back  after  i  while, 
but  that  Gus  had  better  go  home  and  stay  there." 

"I  think  so,  too,"  cried  Ned.  "  I  wish  I  had 
never  seen  him.  If  he  hadn't  come  here  I'd  never 
got  into  this  miserable  scrape  !" 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?"  asked  Uncle  John,  who 
seemed  to  have  no  mind  of  his  own. 

"  You'll  have  to  stay  here  until  you  have  settled 
this  matter,  and  then  you  had  better  follow  us  to  the 
coast.  Pay  Mr.  Cook  for  his  cattle  and  give  up  the 
stolen  horse,  making  the  best  excuses  for  Ned  that 
you  can  think  of." 

"  Where  is  the  horse  now,  Ned  ?"  asked  his  father. 
"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  boy.     "  He  went  off 
with  the  raiders.     Hurry  up,  George !     Don't  stop 
to  talk  any  more  !" 

"I  am  ready  if  you  are.  If  the  horse  is  gone 
you'll  have  to  pay  for  him,  Uncle  John.  Ned  will 
need  some  money  to  bear  his  expenses.  I'll  be  back 
in  a  minute." 

George  left  the  office  and  hurried  to  his  own  room. 
He  stayed  there  just  long  enough  to  empty  the  con 
tents  of  his  money-box  into  his  pocket,  and  was 
back  again  by  the  time  Ned  had  received  the  money 
his  father  counted  out  to  him.  There  was  no  leave- 


284  GEORGE    IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

taking  whatever ;  the  boys  were  in  too  great  a  hurry 
for  that.  They  ran  through  the  hall,  and  found 
Jake  standing  on  the  porch  holding  three  horses. 
Ned  and  Gus  lost  no  time  in  getting  into  the  saddle, 
but  George  paused  a  moment  to  listen.  He  could 
distinctly  hear  the  sound  of  hoofs,  but  they  did  not 
seem  to  be  coming  toward  the  rancho.  They  were 
moving  off  to  the  right,  and  when  George  became 
satisfied  of  that  fact,  he  told  himself  that  Mr.  Gil 
bert's  herdsman  had  purposely  lost  his  way  and  was 
leading  the  pursuers  out  of  their  course. 

"  That's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  Now  put  out  every 
light  about  the  house,  or  close  the  shutters,  to  make 
them  believe  that-  you  have  gone  to  bed,  and  be  as 
long  in  answering  their  hail  as  you  can.  We  shall 
stop  in  Brownsville,  Uncle  John,  and  we  shall  expect 
you  there  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  Good- by! 
Easy,  boys  !  We'll  go  fast  enough  after  a  while  !" 

Ned  and  Gus  would  have  dashed  off  at  the  top  of 
their  speed  and  tired  their  horses  out  before  they 
had  gone  ten  miles  if  George  had  not  checked  them. 
The  latter  knew  that  they  were  comparatively  safe 
now,  and  he  breathed  a  good  deal  easier  than  he  did 
while  he  was  in  the  rancho.  If  the  owner  of  the 
stolen  horse  had  arrived  while  they  were  in  the  office, 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  285 

something  unpleasant  might  have  happened  ;  but 
now  that  he  and  his  companions  were  in  the  saddle 
there  was  little  danger  to  be  apprehended.  The 
ranchemen  could  not  compete  with  them  in  a  fair 
race,  for  the  horses  they  rode  were  weary  with  their 
day's  journey,  while  those  on  which  the  boys 
were  mounted  were  fresh  and  vigorous.  George 
explained  this  as  they  rode  away  from  the  house, 
adding : 

"  They  can't  follow  us  in  the  dark,  for  they  have 
no  means  of  knowing  which  trail  we  have  taken. 
Their  only  chance  is  to  wait  until  morning  and 
make  inquiries  among  the  settlers." 

"  That  is  just  what  they  will  do,"  said  Ned,  "and 
everybody  will  tell  them  all  about  us.  The  neigh 
bors  are  down  on  me  because  I  am  so  far  above 
them." 

"  But  we  must  keep  out  of  sight  of  the  neighbors," 
said  George,  who  did  not  think  it  best  to  notice  his 
cousin's  last  remark,  u  and  then  they  can't  tell  any 
thing  about  us.  The  people  who  live  along  the 
river  trail  are  strangers  to  us,  so  we'll  go  that  way. 
It  is  the  safest." 

George  kept  his  horse  in  a  rapid  walk  until  he 
was  out  of  sight  of  the  rancho,  and  then  he  put  him 


286 

t)  the  top  of  his  speed.  Although  he  had  20  fear 
of  being  overtaken,  he  was  very  anxious  to  keep  out 
of  sight  of  the  ranchemen,  for  they  carried  revolvers* 
and  would  not  hesitate  to  use  them  if  they  found 
that  Ned  could  not  be  captured  in  any  other  way. 
George  was  resolved  to  stand  by  his  cousin,  no  mat 
ter  how  much  risk  he  might  run  by  so  doing ;  but 
perhaps  he  would  not  have  been  so  determined  on 
this  point  if  he  had  known  what  was  transpiring  at 
the  rancho  he  had  just  left. 

In  spite  of  the  care  he  had  taken  to  enter  and 
leave  the  house  without  Philip's  knowledge,  that 
crafty  individual  knew  all  about  it.  As  it  hap 
pened,  he  was  standing  on  the  porch  when  George 
first  made  his  appearance.  He  recognised  the  boy 
at  once,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see  him. 
He  knew,  and  so  did  Uncle  John,  that  George  had 
succeeded  in  eluding  the  raiders  when  they  made  the 
descent  upon  his  camp,  and  that  he  was  probably  on 
his  way  home ;  but  Philip  did  not  expect  him  to  get 
there,  for?  as  we  shall  presently  see,  arrangements 
had  been  made  to  intercept  him.  When  Philip  saw 
him  coming,  he  said  something  angry  in  Spanish, 
and  retreated  into  a  dark  door-way,  so  that  George 
could  not  see  him. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  287 

"  I  never  expected  to  put  eyes  on  him  again  on 
this  side  of  the  river,"  said  the  Mexican,  to  himself; 
"but  here  he  has  gone  and  run  the  blockade,  and 
there  is  no  telling  when  we  can  get  another  chance 
at  him.  Where  are  those  fellows  who  ought  to  have 
been  watching  the  trail  ?  I  wonder  if  he  has  heard 
any  news  !  He  acts  as  though  he  wanted  to  get 
into  the  house  without  being  seen." 

The  man  crouched  down  in  his  place  of  conceal 
ment  and  watched  George's  movements.  He  saw 
him  when  he  mounted  the  steps  and  placed  his-  hand 
on  the  door  leading  into  the  hall.  He  heard  almost 
every  word  of  the  conversation  between  him  and  the 
herdsman  who  met  him  there,  and  the  ejaculations 
he  uttered  under  his  breath  indicated  that  he  was 
both  astonished  and  enraged  by  it.  When  the  con 
versation  ceased,  and  he  heard  Jake  moving  along 
the  hall,  Philip  softly  opened  the  door  near  which 
he  was  concealed,  and  slipped  into  the  kitchen. 
When  the  herdsman  entered,  he  was  filling  his  pipe, 
preparatory  to  indulging  in  a  smoke.  Knowing  that 
the  herdsman  had  been  sent  in  there  to  watch  him, 
he  remained  in  the  kitchen  until  Jake  went  out  to 
catch  and  saddle  the  horses ;  then  he  threw  down 
his  pipe,  and  running  swiftly  but  noiselessly  along 


288  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  hall,  stopped  in  front  of  the  office  door.  Placing 
his  ear  close  to  the  key-hole,  he  listened  intently, 
hoping  to  overhear  the  conversation  that  was  carried 
on  by  those  inside ;  but  George,  as  we  know,  spoke 
in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  and  Philip  had  little  more 
than  his  trouble  for  his  pains.  When  he  heard  Jake 
coming  with  the  horses  he  ran  back  to  the  kitchen, 
the  door  of  which  he  left  ajar.  He  saw  the  boys 
when  they  came  out,  and  heard  George  tell  his  uncle 
that  they  were  going  straight  to  Brownsville,  and 
should  expect  to  see  him  there  in  a  few  days. 

When  George  and  his  companions  had  ridden 
away  out  of  sight,  and  Uncle  John  and  the  herdsman 
had  gone  back  into  the  hall,  Philip  softly  opened 
the  kitchen  door  and  stepped  upon  the  porch. 
Almost  at  the  same  instant  the  door  which  gave 
entrance  into  the  hall,  was  cautiously  opened  and 
Uncle  John  came  in.  He  looked  all  around  the 
room  as  if  he  was  searching  for  somebody,  and  went 
out  upon  the  porch.  He  pronounced  the  Mexican's 
name  two  or  three  times,  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  and 
walked  around  the  building,  looking  everywhere  for 
him ;  but  he  could  neither  hear  nor  see  anything  of 
him,  and  finally  he  gave  up  the  search,  and  went 
back  to  the  office  again. 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  289 

Philip,  in  the  meantime,  having  caught  up  a  sad 
dle  and  bridle,  belonging  to  one  of  the  herdsmen, 
ran  to  the  corral,  opened  the  gate  with  the  key 
which  he  had  taken  from  its  nail  in  the  kitchen, 
and  hurried  in.  When  he  came  out,  he  was  lead 
ing  a  horse,  which  was  soon  saddled  and  bridled, 
and  carrying  the  Mexican  at  a  full  gallop  away 
from  the  rancho.  The  rider  directed  his  course 
down  the  trail,  and  had  gone  about  half  a  mile, 
when  he  heard  the  sound  of  voices  away  off  to  his 
right.  It  was  so  dark  that  he  could  not  see  any 
body,  but  Philip,  being  confident  that  he  knew 
whom  the  voices  belonged  to,  checked  his  horse  and 
rode  just  fast  enough  to  intercept  the  horsemen, 
who  were  coming  along  one  of  the  side-trails.  In  a 
few  minutes  a  hail  came  through  the  darkness,  tell 
ing  him  that  he  had  been  discovered. 

O 

"  Hallo,  there  !"  cried  a  voice. 

"Hallo  yourself!"  replied  Philip,  stopping  his 
horse  and  turning  him  around,  so  that  his  head 
pointed  toward  the  rancho,  instead  of  away 
from  it. 

"  0,  now  you're  all  right,"  said  another  voice. 
"  That's  one  of  Ackerman's  men.  He'll  show  you 
19 


290  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

the  way,  an'  I'll  go  hum.  I'm  sorry  I  lost  the 
trail,  an'  tuk  you  so  fur  outen  your  way — I  am  so  ; 
but  it's  powerful  dark,  an'  my  eyes  ain't  none  of  the 
best." 

"  Well,  I  should  think  a  ten-year-old  boy  ought 
t;  know  the  trails  in  his  own  neighborhood," 
growled  the  man  who  had  shouted  out  the  hail. 
"  You  have  delayed  us  more  than  half  an  hour." 

"  And  he  did  it  on  purpose,  too,"  thought  Philip. 
"  That's  Gilbert's  man,  and  he  knows  the  country 
like  a  book  for  two  hundred  miles  around. 

"  Hallo,  there  !"  came  the  hail  again. 

"  Hallo  yourself!"  was  Philip's  answer. 

"  Can  you  show  us  the  way  to  Ackerman's  ?" 

"I  can.     I  am  going  right  there." 

"  Then  you  can  go  home,"  said  the  horseman, 
addressing  himself  to  the  man  whom  Mr.  Gilbert 
had  sent  to  act  as  guide.  "  We've  seen  enough 
of  you." 

The  herdsman,  taking  him  at  his  word,  rode  off 
at  once ;  and  presently  the  owner  of  the  stolen 
horse  and  his  companion  galloped  up  to  the  place 
where  Philip  was  standing.  The  latter  looked 
closely  at  them  for  a  moment,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  0 !  I   know  who   you   are   now.      You're   the 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  291 

gentlemen  who  came  to  our  rancho  the  other  night 
and  borrowed  two  fresh  horses.  Did  you  catch 
him  ?" 

"No,"  growled  one  of  the  horsemen. 

Philip  waited  for  him  to  say  something  more,  but 
the  man  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  humor  for  talk 
ing  just  then.  No  doubt  he  was  reserving  all  he 
had  to  say  for  Uncle  John's  private  ear.  After 
they  had  ridden  a  short  distance,  Philip  said : 

"I'm  sorry  you  didn't  catch  him.  Mr.  Acker- 
man  will  be  sure  to  ask  particularly  about  it,  when 
he  comes  home." 

"When  he  comes  home  !" 

"  Yes ;  he  isn't  here,  you  know." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  He  and  his  son  started  for  Palos  this  morn- 

ing-" 

The  horsemen  looked  at  each  other  and  uttered 

a  volley  of  exclamations,  that  seemed  to  astonish 
Philip  greatly. 

"  Perhaps  you  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Ackerman  ?" 
said  he. 

"  I  should  say  we  did !"  replied  the  owner  of  the 
stolen  horse. 

"  I  am  sorry.     He'll  not  be  back  for  two  or  three 


292  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

weeks,  for  he  took  a  mule-wagon  with  him,  and  is 

going  to  bring  back  a  heavy  load." 

"  You  say  his  son  went  with  him.     Did  he  go  In 

the  wagon  ?" 

"  0,  no  ;  he  rode  on  horseback.' 

"  What  sort  of  a  looking  horse  was  it  ?" 

"A  dark  chestnut,  with  white  mane  and  tail  and 

four  white  feet.     It  was  a  new  horse  he  traded  for 

a  few  days  ago.     The  house  is  open,  just  the  same 

as  if  Mr.  Ackerman  was  there,  and  we  shall  be  glad 

to  give  you " 

"  We  wouldn't  stay  in  his  house  to-night  under 

any  circumstances  !"  was  the  angry  reply.     "  Bring 

out  our  horses  as  quick  as  you  can,  and  let  us  get 

away ;  that's  all  we  ask  of  you  !" 

"I'll  do  that.     Any  word  to  leave  for  Mr.  Ack 

0" 

erman  i 

"  Not  a  word !  We've  got  plenty  to  say  to 
him  and  that  boy  of  his,  but  we'll  say  it  to  their 
faces." 

"  It  is  nothing  bad,  I  hope  !" 

"It  is  no  business  of  yours,  whether  it  is  or 
not!" 

These  words  and  the  tone  in  which  they  were 
uttered,  silenced  the  Mexican  most  effectually. 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  293 

He  knew  some  things  that  the  owner  of  the  stolen 
horse  did  not  know  ;  but  still  he  was  obliged  to 
exhibit  some  curiosity,  in  order  to  avoid  exciting 
the  man's  suspicions.  Not  another  word  was  said 
during  the  ride. 

The  ranchemen  went  into  the  corral  with  Philip 
turned  their  borrowed  horses  loose  and  caught  their 
own,  and,  having  placed  their  saddles  upon  them, 
they  mounted  and  rode  away.  Philip  watched 
them  as  long  as  they  were  in  sight,  and  when  they 
had  disappeared  in  the  darkness,  he  closed  and 
locked  the  gate  of  the  corral,  sprang  into  his 
saddle  and  turned  his  horse's  head  away  from  the 
rancho. 

u  That  was  pretty  well  done  if  I  did  do  it  myself," 
thought  he.  "  They'll  be  back  again  to-morrow  or 
next  day,  but  if  Ackerman  is  sharp  they'll  find  him 
gone,  sure  enough.  I'll  have  to  go,  too,  for  I 
shouldn't  like  to  have  them  see  me  after  they  learn 
how  they  have  been  tricked." 

While  the  Mexican  was  talking  to  himself  in  this 
way  he  had  ridden  around  the  corral,  and  was  now 
galloping  at  full  speed  toward  a  belt  of  timber  which 
lay  about  two  miles  from  the  rancho.  All  was  dark 
before  him,  but  Philip  seemed  to  know  just  where 


294  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

he  was  going.  He  brought  his  horse  to  a  walk  when 
he  reached  the  woods,  and  after  riding  through  a 
dense  thicket  of  bushes  he  struck  a  bridle  path,  into 
which  he  turned.  He  followed  it  for  a  short  dis 
tance,  ducking  his  head  now  and  then  to  avoid  some 
overhanging  branch,  and  finally  dismounted  at  the 
door  of  a  dilapidated  cabin  that  had  once  been  the 
property  of  a  pig-raiser,  who  lived  there  and  watched 
his  droves  while  they  fattened  on  the  acorns  which 
so  plentifully  covered  the  ground  at  certain  seasons 
of  the  year.  There  was  a  window  beside  the  door, 
and  a  bright  light  shone  out  of  it.  The  light  came 
from  the  fire-place,  which  was  heaped  high  with 
blazing  logs.  In  front  of  the  fire  were  two  men, 
dressed  in  Mexican  costume,  who  were  reclining  at 
their  ease  on  their  ponchos  and  smoking  cigarettes. 
But  they  were  not  Mexicans.  They  were  renegade 
Americans,  and  members  of  the  band  that  made  the 
attack  upon  George's  camp.  When  they  heard  the 
strokes  of  the  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  path,  they 
started  up  and  turned  toward  the  door  which  Philip 
pushed  open  without  ceremony. 

"You  are  a  pretty  pair,  I  must  say!"  exclaimed 
the  new-comer,  after  he  had  somewhat  relieved  hia 
mind  by  uttering  a  volley  of  heavy  Spanish  adjee- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  295 

lives.     "  What  were  you  put  here  for,  anyhow — to 
vaste  your  time  in  smoking  and  loafing  ?" 

"We  have  just  this  moment  come  in,"  replied 
one  of  the  men. 

"  Didn't  you  see  anybody  while  you  were  watch 
ing  the  trail  ?"  inquired  Philip. 

"  Yes ;  there  was  somebody  went  by  on  horse 
back." 

"  Was  there  a  small,  dark-colored  mute  following 
the  horse?  Then  it  was  the  boy  you  were  looking 
for,  and  you  let  him  go  by." 

•  Of  course.  You  told  us  to  look  out  for  a  boy 
on  foot !" 

"  So  I  did,"  said  Philip,  after  reflecting  a  moment 
"  I  didn't  think,  at  the  time,  that  he  would  be  likely 
to  find  his  horse  and  mule,  but  it  seems  he  did. 
However,  you've  got  a  chance  to  try  your  hands 
again.  George  has  just  started  for  Brownsville !" 

Both  the  men  uttered  ejaculations  when  theyjieard 
this,  and  one  of  them  began  to  roll  up  his  poncho. 
"  There  are  three  of  them  together,"  continued 
Philip,  "but  you  will  have  no  trouble  in  recognising 
George  when  you  find  them.  He's  the  largest  of 
the  lot,  wears  a  red  shirt  and  high  boots,  and  rides 
a  black  horse.  You  want  to  look  out  for  that  same 


296  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

black  horse,  for  if  you  give  him  the  least  show  he'll 
carry  George  so  far  out  of  your  reach  that  you'll 
never  see  him  again.  He's  just  lightning.  Your 
best  plan  would  be  to  wait  until  the  boys  go  into 
camp,  and  then  jump  down  on  them  before  they 
know  it.  Hold  fast  to  George  when  you  get  him. 
but  don't  harm  the  other  two.  Don't  waste  your 
time,  either,  in  following  the  big  trail.  Put  for  the 
river  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  there's  where  you  will 
find  them." 

While  Philip  was  giving  these  commands  the  men 
were  busy  rolling  up  their  blankets  and  ponchos 
and  making  their  preparations  for  an  immediate 
departure.  Their  horses,  which  were  staked  out 
close  by,  were  quickly  caught  and  saddled,  and 
when  all  were  mounted,  Philip  led  the  way  out  of 
the  timber.  He  paused  when  he  reached  the  open 
ground  long  enough  to  add  a  few  words  more  to  the 
instructions  he  had  already  given,  and  then  galloped 
off  toward  the  rancho,  while  the  Americans  rode 
away  in  pursuit  of  George. 

When  Philip  reached  home  he  put  his  horse  into 
the  corral  and  let  himself  into  the  kitchen  without 
being  seen  by  anybody.  After  making  sure  that 
the  rest  of  the  servants  had  retired  for  the  night,  he 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  297 

hastened  along  the  hall  to  the  office,  at  the  door  of 
which  he  paused  for  a  moment  to  listen.  He  heard 
the  sound  of  footsteps  passing  back  and  forth  at  regu 
lar  intervals,  but  there  was  no  murmur  of  conversa 
tion,  and  so  Philip  knew  that  the  man  he  wanted  to 
see  was  alone.  He  entered  without  taking  the  trouble 
to  knock,  and  having  closed  the  door  and  pushed  the 
bolt  into  its  socket,  he  hung  his  sombrero  upon  the 
knob  to  cover  the  key-hole.  Uncle  John,  who  was 
walking  restlessly  about  the  room,  turned  quickly 
and  hastened  forward  to  greet  him. 

"Philip,  I  am  overjoyed  to  see  you,"  he  ex 
claimed.  "  Where  have  you  been  V  I  have  hunted 
the  house  over  to  find  you.  Do  you  know  what  has 
happened  here  to-night?" 

"I  know  all  about  it,"  replied  Philip,  taking  pos 
session  of  one  of  the  easy  chairs,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  felt  perfectly  at  home.  "  I  heard  every 
thing  that  passed  while  George  was  here  except 
the  conversation  he  had  with  you  in  this  office. 
He  talked  so  low  that  I  couldn't  hear  much  of  that, 
but  I  know  about  what  he  said." 

"Then  tell  me  what  to  do,"  said  Uncle  John,  who 
had  not  yet  recovered  from  his  fright.  "What  shall 
I  say  to  those  men  vhen  they  come  here  ?  I  don't 


298  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

see  what  keeps  them.  I  have  been  looking  for  them 
every  minute  since  the  boys  went  away." 

"They  have  been  here  and  are  gone,"  answered 
Philip.  u  They'll  not  trouble  you  to-night." 

Uncle  John  could  not  speak.  He  could  only  look 
the  astonishment  and  delight  he  felt. 

"Yes,"  continued  Philip,  "they  have  come  and 
gone.  I  sent  them  away.  I  met  them  on  the  road 
and  told  them  you  and  Ned  had  gone  to  Palos,  and 
that  you  would  not  be  back  under  two  or  three 
weeks.  I  told  them,  too,  that  Ned  had  ridden  away 
a  new  horse  he  traded  for  a  few  days  ago.  I  knew 
they  wouldn't  stop  here  after  hearing  that.  I  helped 
them  catch  their  horses,  and  they  left  as  soon  as  they 
could  put  the  saddles  on  them." 

Uncle  John  drew  a  long  breath  and  sat  down  in 
the  nearest  chair.  He  was  greatly  relieved  to  know 
that  he  would  not  be  called  upon  to  face  the  owner 
of  the  stolen  horse  that  night. 

"  They  must  have  gone  away  with  a  very  poor 
opinion  of  themselves,"  Philip  went  on.  "  They've 
been  fooled  at  every  turn.  The  horse  they  are  look 
ing  for  was  under  the  shed  the  night  they  came  here ; 
George  sent  them  more  than  thirty-five  miles  out  of 
their  way ;  Mr.  Gilbert  sent  a  herdsman  to  guide 


LIFE   ON  THE   PLAINS.  299 

them  to  the  rancho  and  he  lost  them  on  purpose ; 
and  now  I  have  sent  them  off  on  a  wild  goose  chase. 
It's  lucky  for  you  I  did,  for  they  were  just  boiling 
over." 

"  But  they'll  come  back  some  day,"  said  Undo 
John,  growing  frightened  again  when  he  thought 
of  it, 

"  Of  course  they  will,  but  if  they  catch  you  here, 
it  will  be  your  own  fault.  They'll  not  find  me,  1 
tell  you.  You  ought  to  be  well  on  your  way  toward 
Brownsville  by  this  time  to-morrow,  and  I  don't  see 
why  you  didn't  go  with  the  boys.  I  would  if  I  had 
been  in  your  place." 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  ought  to  stay  here  and  settle 
the  matter." 

"You  can  settle  it  easier  through  somebody  else. 
You'll  have  to  pay  full  value  for  that  horse,  for  he 
went  off  with  the  raiders.  I  saw  him  go.  If  I 
were  in  your  place,  I'd  put  money  enough  in  Mr. 
Gilbert's  hands  to  straighten  up  the  whole  business 
• — he'll  do  it  if  you  ask  him,  just  because  he  knows 
it  would  please  George — and  then  I'd  dig  out.  I 
wouldn't  come  back  either,  until  Mr.  Gilbert 
thought  it  safe  for  me  to  do  so.  But  before  you 
go,  you  might  as  well  tell  one  of  the  men  to  bring 


300 

in  a  thousand   head  of   cattle   and    pasture    them 
between  here  and  the  river." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  exclaimed  Uncle 
John,  starting  up  in  his  chair. 

"  I  mean  that  you  won't  find  George  in  Browns 
ville  when  you  get  there-  You  know  those  two 
fellows  who  were  sent  here  to  watch  the  rancho, 
don't  you  ?  Well,  they  let  George  go  by  them  to 
night." 

Uncle  John  was  well  aware  of  that  fact.  If  they 
had  not  allowed  him  to  pass  he  could  not  have 
reached  the  house.  That  was  what  caused  him  to 
exhibit  so  much  astonishment  when  his  nephew  first 
entered  the  office.  He  knew  that  the  trail  was 
watched,  and  he  could  not  imagine  how  George  had 
escaped  capture. 

"  George  came  on  horseback,  and  they  were  look 
ing  for  a  boy  on  foot,"  said  Philip.  "  He  is  safe 
now,  however.  I  have  put  them  on  his  trail,  and  a 
few  hours  more  will  see  him  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river." 

"  But  what  will  become  of  Ned  and  Gus  ?" 
"  I  told  the  men  not  to  trouble  them." 
"But  they  can  never  find  their  way  without  a 
guide." 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  301 

"  Haven't  they  got  a  pair  of  tongues,  and  isn't 
the  trail  as  plain  as  daylight?" 

Uncle  John  settled  back  in  his  chair  and  fastened 
his  eyes  on  the  floor.  He  was  silent  for  a  long 
time,  but  finally  he  said:  "I  wish  you  hadn't  done 
it." 

"It  is  too  late  to  talk  that  way,"  answered  Philip, 
drumming  with  his  fingers  on  the  arms  of  his  chair, 
and  looking  up  at  the  ceiling.  "  You  told  me  what 
you  wanted  done,  and  what  you  were  willing  to 
give,  if  it  ivas  done,  and  I  have  tried  my  best 
to  do  it." 

"  If  I  had  waited  until  to-night,  I  never  should 
have  said  a  word  to  you  about  it.  Suppose  it 
should  become  known  among  the  neighbors!" 

"  Now,  how  are  the  neighbors  going  to  find  it 
out  ?  Who  is  going  to  tell  them  ?" 

While  this  conversation,  and  much  more  like  it, 
was  going  on,  George  was  leading  his  companions 
rapidly  across  the  plain,  toward  the  trail  which  ran 
along  the  bank  of  the  river,  in  the  direction  of 
Brownsville.  Se  had  brought  upon  himself  the 
wrath  of  men  who  would  have  treated  him  roughly, 
if  they  could  have  overtaken  him ;  had  run  away 
from  his  home  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  and  he  had 


302  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

done  it  to  save  a  boy  whose  father  was  at  that  very 
moment  hearing  and  consenting  to  plans,  which 
were  intended  to  bring  him  into  serious  trouble. 
If  George  had  known  what  we  have  just  recorded, 
his  after  life  would  not  have  been  what  it  was,  and 
a  good  many  thrilling  scenes  we  have  yet  to  de 
scribe,  and  of  which  he  was  the  hero,  never  would 
have  happened.  It  all  came  out  after  a  while,  and 
it  came,  too,  in  such  shape  that  George  was  fully 
convinced  that  Mr.  Gilbert  was  wiser  than  himself, 
and  he  wondered  why  he  had  not  seen  it  before. 

Philip  spent  more  than  an  hour  in  conversation 
with  his  employer,  minutely  describing  all  the 
events  of  the  night,  in  which  he  had  borne  a  part, 
and  at  last  he  arose  to  go.  As  he  was  about  to 
leave  the  room,  a  most  unexpected  and  alarming 
incident  occurred.  No  sooner  had  he  crossed  the 
threshold,  than  he  received  a  blow  full  in  the  face 
that  would  have  felled  an  ox.  It  lifted  him  off  his 
feet,  sent  him  with  crushing  force  against  the  wall, 
and  doubled  him  up  on  the  floor,  all  in  a  heap. 

"  Set  Greasers  on  the  trail  of  a  white  boy,  will 
ye?"  exclaimed  a  voice.  "  Take  that  thar  fur  yer 
imperdence  !  Evenin,'  Mr.  Ackerman  !" 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  303 

The  voice,  and  the  clenched  hand  that  struck  the 
blow,  belonged  to  Jake,  the  herdsman,  who  thrust 
his  head  in  at  the  door  and  nodded  to  his  employer, 
as  if  to  say  : 

"  I  know  all  about  it  1" 


304  GEORGE  in  CAMP;  o*. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

CAUGHT   AT   LAST  ! 

T  ET'S  hold  up  a  little,  boys.  We  mustn't  tire 
our  horses  out  at  the  start,  you  know.  We 
are  safe  now,  for  even  if  those  ranchemen  should 
come  in  pursuit  of  us,  they'd  never  think  of  looking 
for  us  here." 

The  fugitives  were  five  miles  from  the  rancho, 
and  they  had  not  consumed  a  great  deal  of  time 
in  accomplishing  the  distance,  either.  They  had 
scarcely  exchanged  a  dozen  words  since  they  began 
their  flight,  for  George  led  the  way  at  a  pace  so 
rapid  that  conversation  was  impossible.  Ned  and 
Gus  had  never  travelled  so  fast  on  horseback  before, 
and  the  former  was  obliged  to  confess  to  himself 
that  he  was  by  no  means  so  fine  a  rider  as  he 
thought  he  was.  It  was  comparatively  easy  to 
keep  a  firm  and  upright  seat  while  his  nag  was 
ambling  leisurely  along  a  smooth  trail,  but  it  was 
not  so  easy  when  the  horse  was  running  at  the  top 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  30,5 

of  his  speed,  over  rough  ground.  His  feet  were 
out  of  the  stirrups  more  than  half  the  time,  while 
Gus  was  jolted  up  and  down  and  from  side  to  side 
with  such  violence  that  it  was  a  wonder  he  kept  in 
his  saddle  at  all.  Fortunately,  Ned's  departure 
from  home  had  been  so  hurried  that  he  had  for 
gotten  to  take  with  him  the  ornaments  he  usually 
wore  when  he  went  riding.  If  he  had  had  his 
spurs  on  while  his  heels  were  digging  into  his 
horse's  sides,  he  might  not  have  kept  his  seat  as 
well  as  he  did.  Both  he  and  Gus  wrere  glad  when 
George  checked  his  horse  and  allowed  him  to  settle 
down  to  a  walk. 

"  Texas  isn't  so  dull  a  place  to  live  in  after  all, 
is  it?"  said  George,  who  knew  he  must  say  some 
thing  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  his  companions. 
"  One  can  get  all  the  excitement  he  wants,  without 
half  trying,  can't  he?" 

"  I  never  would  have  been  in  this  scrape  if  it 
hadn't  been  for  Gus,"  declared  Ned,  who,  mean- 
spirited  fellow  that  he  wras,  alwrays  tried  to  shift  the 
responsibility  for  any  wrongdoing  upon  the  shoulders 
of  somebody  else.  "  I  wish  I  had  never  brought 
him  here !" 

"So  do  I,'   replied  Gus,  who  might,  with  just  as 
20 


306  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

much  show  of  reason,  have  accused  Ned  of  being 
the  author  of  all  his  misfortunes.  If  Ned  had  not 
written  him  those  letters  and  offered  to  pay  his 
travelling  expenses,  he  never  would  have  been  in 
Texas.  "  I  don't  see  how  you  can  blame  me  for 
anything  that  has  happened.  Did  I  have  a  hand  in 
stealing  that  horse?" 

"  You  had  just  as  much  to  do  with  it  as  I  did. 
What  I  mean  is,  that  if  you  had  been  at  home, 
where  I  wish  you  were  this  very  minute,  those  cattle 
never  would  have  been  shot." 

"  That's  a  pretty  way  for  you  to  talk  !"  exclaimed 
Gus,  angrily.  "  I  hadn't  been  in  your  house  an 
hour  before  you  told  me  that  you  intended  to  do  that 
very  thing,  just  to  get  up  a  breeze  and  show  the 
neighbors  that  you  had  some  pluck." 

"  But  I  never  would  have  done  it  if  you  hadn't 
dared  me.  What  are  we  going  to  do  when  we  reach 
Brownsville,  George?" 

u  We'll  put  up  at  a  hotel  and  wait  for  Uncle 
John,"  was  George's  answer.  "  When  he  comes 
we'll  talk  the  matter  over  and  decide  upon  some 
thing.  I  think  we  had  all  better  go  off  somewhere. 
I  am  going,  for  I  don't  want  to  see  anybody  in  ouf 
settlement  until  this  trouble  is  forgotten." 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  307 

"You  haven't  done  anything  to  be  ashamed  of,'* 
said  Gus,  who  looked  upon  George  as  a  hero.  He 
had  been  perfectly  cool  and  collected  while  every 
body  else  was  too  badly  frightened  to  talk  plainly, 
and  Gus  greatly  admired  his  courage.  He  told  him 
self,  too,  that  he  had  formed  a  wrong  opinion  of  the 
boy  from  Ned's  description  of  him.  He  was  not  a 
boor  by  any  means.  He  was  more  of  a  gentleman 
in  appearance,  in  spite  of  his  rough  clothes,  than 
his  cousin  was,  and  knew  more  in  five  minutes  than 
Ned  could  ever  hope  to  know. 

"No  ;  I  have  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  but 
I  am  taking  you  out  of  danger,  and  the  people  will 
think  hard  of  me  for  it,"  replied  George.  "Besides, 
I  deceived  the  owner  of  the  stolen  horse,  and  that 
will  raise  a  storm  against  me.  The  folks  in  these 
parts  are  down  on  anybody  who  befriends  a  horse- 
thief." 

"  I  am  not  a  horse-thief!"  exclaimed  Ned. 

"  Of  course  you  are  not.  But  you  acknowledge 
that  you  kept  Silk  Stocking  in  your  possession  after 
you  knew  he  was  stolen,  and  that's  a  crime  in  the 
the  eyes  of  our  people!" 

"Don't  you  think  I  can  ever  come  back  ?"  asked 
Ned. 


308  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

"  0,  yes  !  It  will  all  blow  over  after  a  while, 
but  you  must  be  very  careful  in  future,  for  a  second 
offence  of  this  kind  would  be  sure  to  lead  to  some 
thing  serious." 

Ned  was  overjoyed  to  hear  this.  Now  that  he 
had  recovered  from  his  fright  so  that  he  could  think 
clearly,  he  began  to  ask  himself  what  the  future  had 
in  store  for  him.  How  could  he  live  if  he  were 
obliged  to  leave  Texas?  He  knew  that  his  father 
would  be  quite  willing  to  support  him,  no  matter 
where  he  might  choose  to  take  up  his  abode,  but  he 
could  not  do  it  without  drawing  heavily  on  the  reve 
nues  of  the  estate,  and  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that 
George  would  consent  to  that;  consequently  Ned 
would  be  compelled  to  go  to  work  and  earn  his  own 
support.  That  was  something  the  boy  did  not  want 
to  do.  He  had  lived  so  long  in  idleness  that  the 
very  thought  of  work  was  most  distasteful  to  him. 
He  told  himself  that  he  would  indeed  be  careful 
how  he  acted  when  he  came  back  to  the  ranche, 
and  that  nothing  could  ever  again  induce  him  to 
foolishly  jeopardise  his  chances  of  living  a  life  of 
ease. 

"Mr,  Gilbert  has  often  advised  me  to  go  away 
and  see  a  little  of  the  world,  especially  of  my  own 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  309 

country,  and  I  don't  know  that  I  shall  ever  have  a 
better  opportunity,"  continued  George.  "I'd  like 
first  to  go  up  the  Mississippi,  clean  up  to  its  source, 
and  come  back  in  a  canoe.  Canoeing  is  getting  to 
be  a  favorite  sport  with  some  people." 

"  That  would  be  splendid,"  exclaimed  Ned,  with 
great  enthusiasm.  "I'll  go  with  you." 

George  made  no  reply.  He  had  not  looked  for 
so  prompt  an  endorsement  of  an  idea  that  had  but 
just  suggested  itself  to  him,  and  besides,  his  cousin 
•was  the  last  boy  in  the  world  he  would  have  chosen 
for  a  companion  during  a  journey  of  that  kind.  If 
he  made  it  at  all,  he  wanted  to  make  it  a  pleasure 
trip;  and  for  that  reason  he  wanted  Ned  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it. 

"  I  have  read  about  the  cruise  of  the  Rob  Roy  on 
the  Jordan,"  continued  Ned,  "and  I'd  like  to  make 
one  just  like  it.  I  think  a  voyage  down  the  Missis 
sippi  would  be  the  next  best  thing.  We  ought  to 
take  our  guns  and  some  fishing  tackle  with  us,  and 
we  shall  need  a  tent  and  cooking  utensils.  Won't 
we  have  fun,  though?  Let's  go,  George." 

"  And  while  you  are  having  so  much  fun  what 
will  I  be  doing?"  asked  Gus. 

"  You !"  said  Ned,  as  if  he  had  forgotten  that 


310  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

there  was  such  a  boy  as  Gus  Robbins  in  existence. 
"  0,  you  had  better  go  home." 

"  Now,  Ned,  you  know  very  well  that  I  can't  do 
it,"  said,  Gus;  and  he  spoke  so  calmly  that  Ned 
looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  you  can.  Your  father  said  so  in  Ins 
letter." 

"  But  I  haven't  money  enough  to  pay  my  way." 

44  Well,  I  can't  help  that.  You  can't  expect  me 
to  pay  your  bills  all  the  while."  Ned  caught  his 
breath  when  he  said  this,  and  looked  toward  his 
cousin,  wondering  what  the  latter  would  think,  if  he 
knew  that  a  hundred  dollars,  which  ought  to  have 
been  placed  in  the  bank  for  his  future  benefit,  had 
been  spent  to  bring  Gus  Robbins  to  Texas.  "Write 
to  your  father,"  added  Ned. 

"  What  shall  I  do  while  I  am  waiting  for  an 
answer?"  asked  Gus.  "How  shall  I  live?" 

"You'll  have  to  go  to  work  at  something.  I 
don't  know  of  anything  else  you  can  do." 

Gus  did  not  continue  the  conversation  any  longer. 
He  had  learned  all  he  wanted  to  know.  Drawing 
in  his  reins,  he  gradually  slackened  his  pace,  and 
allowed  George  and  his  cousin,  who  rode  side  by 
side,  to  pass  on  in  advance  of  him.  As  soon  aa 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  311 

they   had    done   so,    Gus   fell    in   behind   them   arid 
shook  his  fist  angrily  at  Ned. 

"  He's  the  meanest  boy  that  was  ever  heard  of," 
said  he,  to  himself.  "  I  knew  it  all  the  while,  and 
the  trouble  I  have  got  into  is  nothing  more  than  I 
deserve.  I  ought  to  have  had  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  He  has  got  himself  and  me  into  a  scrape,  and 
now  he  throws  me  overboard,  and  lets  me  look  out 
for  myself,  while  he  depends  upon  his  cousin  to  see 
me  safely  through.  He's  got  a  big  pile  of  money 
he  can  draw  on,  and  can  go  oft'  and  enjoy  himself, 
while  I've  got  to  stay  here.  For  I  shall  not  go 
home,"  added  Gus,  with  a  most  emphatic  shake  of 
his  head.  u  Everybody  in  Foxboro'  knows  by  this 
time  that  I  ran  away,  and  I'll  not  go  back  there  and 
face  them.  There's  plenty  of  work  to  be  had  in 
this  country,  and  right  here  I'll  stay  until  my  father 
writes  me  a  decent  letter." 

Perhaps  we  shall  see  that  Gus  made  a  great  mis 
take  when  he  came  to  this  determination.  If  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  return  to  his  home  as  soon 
as  he  could  get  there,  he  would  have  saved  himself 
a  great  deal  of  trouble  that  afterward  came  to  him. 
He  decided  that  he  would  accompany  Ned  as  far  as 
Brownsville,  and  that  when  he  arrived  there  he 


312  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ',    OR, 

would  leave  him  and  strike  out  for  himself.  He 
would  not  stay  with  a  boy  who  did  not  want  his 
company. 

As  the  hours  wore  away,  and  the  rancho  was  left 
farther  and  farther  behind,  and  all  fears  of  pursuit 
died  away,  Ned's  spirits  and  courage  all  came  back 
to  him,  and  he  began  to  speak  of  the  events  of  the 
night  and  the  incidents  that  led  to  them  as  a 
"lark"  that  was  just  a  little  ahead  of  anything 
he  had  ever  heard  of.  He  seemed  to  forget  all 
about  Gus,  who  took  no  part  in  the  conversation. 
Now  and  then  George  turned  about  in  his  saddle, 
and  addressed  some  remark  to  him,  but  Gus  replied 
only  in  monosyllables,  and  George,  finding  that  he 
did  not  feel  in  the  humor  for  talking,  left  him  to  the 
companionship  of  his  own  thoughts. 

It  was  an  hour  after  daylight  when  the  boys  came 
within  sight  of  the  woods  which  lined  the  banks  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  By  this  time  Ned  and  Gus  were 
completely  tired  out,  and  even  George  began  to 
show  signs  of  weariness.  They  were  all  glad  of  a 
chance  to  rest,  and  believed  they  would  be  the  better 
for  a  few  hours'  refreshing  sleep.  They  staked  out 
their  horses  in  the  edge  of  the  timber,  spread  their 
blankets  and  ponchos  on  the  ground,  and  throwing 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  313 

themselves  down  upon  them,  went  to  sleep  almost 
immediately. 

There  was  no  one  in  sight  when  they  vent  into 
camp,  for  George  took  particular  pains  to  satisfy 
himself  of  this  fact;  but  for  all  that  there  were  tw: 
persons  near  enough  at  hand  to  observe  all  their 
movements.  They  had  been  on  the  trail  of  the 
fugitives  for  more  than  half  an  hour,  following 
behind  them  at  a  respectful  distance,  and  making 
use  of  every  inequality  in  the  ground  to  conceal 
them  from  the  view  of  the  boys,  should  any  of  them 
chance  to  look  behind.  When  the  travellers  staked 
out  their  horses  one  of  them  was  lying  on  the  summit 
of  the  nearest  ridge,  looking  at  them  over  the  top  of 
the  grass.  When  he  had  seen  all  he  cared  to  see  he 
returned  to  his  companion,  who  sat  on  his  horse  at 
the  foot  of  the  swell  awaiting  the  result  of  his  obser 
vations,  and  the  two  rode  along  under  cover  of  the 
ridge  until  they  reached  the  woods,  about  half  a 
mile  above  the  place  where  the  boys  had  made  their 
camp.  Keeping  their  horses  in  a  rapid  walk  they 
moved  along  just  outside  the  timber,  and  were  soon 
discovered  by  Ranger,  who  lifted  his  head  and  gave 
them  a  good  looking  over.  But  he  raised  no  alarm 
thinking,  no  doubt,  if  he  were  able  to  think  at  all, 


314  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

that  as  it  was  daylight  his  master  ought  to  be  able  to 
take  care  of  himself. 

When  they  had  approached  a  little  nearer  the  two 
men  put  their  horses  into  a  gallop,  and  dashed  into 
camp.  One  of  them  threw  his  bridle  to  his  com 
panion,  and  swinging  himself  out  of  his  saddle 
hurried  up  to-  George  and  placed  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  just  as  the  boy,  aroused  out  of  a  sound 
sleep  by  the  clatter  of  the  horses'  hoofs,  raised  him 
self  on  his  elbow  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  He 
saw  a  bearded  face  bending  over  him,  and  felt  a 
strong  grasp  on  his  collar.  His  two  companions 
were  sitting  up  on  their  blankets  looking  on  with 
mouths  and  eyes  wide  open.  Ned  probably  did  not 
consider  this  incident  a  part  of  the  "lark"  he  had 
been  talking  about,  for  he  was  trembling  like  a 
leaf. 

"Who  are  you,  arid  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
demanded  George,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

"  We're  somebody  who  won't  harm  you  so  long  as 
you  do  just  as  you're  told!"  replied  the  man.  "We 
came  after  you — that's  what's  we  are  doin'  here  !" 

"  Well,  now  that  you  have  found  me,  what  do  you 
want  with  me?"  asked  George, 

"  We  want  you  to  get  on  your  hoss  an'  take  a  ride 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  315 

with  us.  Thar's  somebody  over  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river  who  wants  to  see  you  powerful  bad!" 

George  arose  slowly  to  his  feet  and  looked  first  at 
the  man  who  held  him  by  the  collar,  and  then  at  the 
man  who  sat  in  his  saddle.  He  knew  who  they  were 
before  he  asked  them,  and  he  knew,  too,  who  it  was 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river  who  wanted  to  see  him. 
He  was  caught  at  last,  and  there  was  no  chance  for 
escape.  There  was  but  one  course  open  to  him,  and 
that  was  to  submit  and  trust  to  luck. 

"  Answer  another  question  while  you  are  aoout 
it,"  said  George.  "  Are  you  Fletcher's  men  ?" 

"  What  do  you  know  about  Fletcher?"  demanded 
the  ruffian,  in  surprise. 

"  I  know  all  about  him,  and  I  know  what  he 
wants  of  me,  too." 

"Who  told  you?"  asked  his  captor,  still  more 
astonished. 

"  That's  my  business !"  answered  George,  who 
knew  better  than  to  mention  Springer's  name. 

"Now,  what  in  the  world  does  this  mean?" 
whined  Ned,  who  just  then  recovered  his  power  of 
speech.  "  Who  are  these  men,  George,  and  what 
are  they  going  to  do  with  us?" 

"  We  aint  agoin'  to  do  nothing  with  ycu  an'  the 


316  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

other  feller  thar,"  said  the  man,  pointing  at  Gus, 
"  so  you  don't  need  to  get  so  white  an'  act  so  power 
ful  skeered.  This  yere  is  the  chap  we've  been 
lookin'  fur.  Now  you  two  can  lay  thar  an'  sleep 
jest  as  long  as  you  please,  an'  then  you  can  strike 
out  fur  Brownsville,  and  nobody  won't  say  a  word  to 
you." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  George  ? 
Are  you  going  to  take  him  away  and  leave  us 
alone?" 

"  That's  about  the  way  it  looks  now." 

"  How  are  we  going  to  find  our  way  without  a 
guide  ?  We  don't  know  th«  road  !" 

"  You  don't  need  to  know  it,  'cause  you  can't 
miss  it.  It's  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face." 

Ned  exhibited  the  greatest  astonishment  and  ter 
ror,  while  Gus  sat  staring  blankly  before  him,  as  if 
he  could  hardly  realize  what  was  going  on.  The  for 
mer,  George  noticed,  did  not  ask  what  the  men 
intended  to  do  with  him,  after  they  had  taken  him 
across  the  river.  All  he  wanted  to  know,  was  how 
he  and  Gus  were  going  to  find  their  way  to  Browns 
ville  without  a  guide. 

"  0  now,  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  cried  Ned, 


LIFE   ON   THE    PLAINS.  317 

sinking  back  on  his  blanket  and  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

"  Be  a  man  in  the  first  place,"  said  George,  who 
was  surprised  at  his  cousin's  want  of  courage. 
"  You  have  nothing  to  cry  over.  Your  way  is  per 
fectly  plain,  but  if  you  miss  it,  can't  you  stop  at 
some  of  the  ranchos  along  the  road  and  ask  the 
people  to  set  you  right  ?  But  there's  one  thing  I 
want  to  speak  to  you  about.  I  say  !  You  don't 
care  if  I  change  clothes  with  him,  do  you?"  he 
added,  addressing  the  man  who  held  him  by  the 
collar. 

"What  do  you  want  to  do  it  for?"  asked  that 
worthy. 

"  Because  it  may  help  him." 

"I  don't  reckon  it'll  do  any  harm,  will  it,  Sam?" 
inquired  the  man,  appealing  to  his  companion. 

Sam  looked  down  at  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  and 
after  considering  the  matter,  said  he  didn't  think  it 
would. 

"All  right.  Let  go  my  collar,"  said  George. 
"Why  do  you  hang  on  to  me  in  that  fashion  ?" 

"I  was  told  to  look  out  for  you,"  answered  the 
ruffian,  "an'  I'm  jest  goin'  to  do  it!" 

He  let  go  his  prisoner's  collar,  but  he  kept  close 


318  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

beside  him  when  the  latter  walked  over  to  the  place 
where  his  cousin  was  lying  on  his  blanket.  "  You 
had  better  give  me  those  silver  buttons  and  all  the 
rest  of  your  finery,"  said  George,  "for  they  are 
much  too  conspicuous  for  you  to  wear.  Those 
ranchemen  are  not  going  to  give  up  that  horse,  and 
they  may  follow  you  clear  to  Brownsville.  I 
believe  I  could  take  you  through  all  right ;  but  as  I 
can't  go  with  you,  you  will  be  left  to  depend  upon 
yourself,  and  you  can't  take  too  many  precautions." 
The  hint  that  there  was  still  a  possibility  of  pur 
suit  and  capture  by  the  ranchemen,  brought  Ned  to 
his  feet  in  great  haste.  The  thought  that  perhaps 
his  cousin  might  get  himself  into  trouble  by  wearing 
those  same  silver  buttons  never  entered  his  head, 
nor  would  he  have  paid  any  attention  to  it  if  it  had. 
He  cared  for  nobody  but  himself,  and  he  was  quite 
willing  to  part  with  his  nobby  suit,  and  put  on  his 
cousin's  coarse  clothing,  if  by  so  doing,  he  could 
secure  his  own  safety.  The  exchange  was  soon 
effected,  the  cattle-thief  standing  so  close  to  George's 
elbow  all  the  while  that  flight  would  have  been 
impossible,  even  if  the  boy  had  thought  of  such  a 
thing,  and  although  Ned  cut  a  sorry  figure  in  his 
new  rig,  his  cousin's  appearance  was  vastly  im- 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  319 

proved.  The  nobby  suit,  which  was  rather  large 
for  Ned,  fitted  him  as  though  it  had  been  made  on 
purpose  for  him,  and  Gus,  while  he  looked  at  him, 
wondered  why  he  had  never  before  noticed  that 
George  was  a  very  handsome  young  fellow. 

"Now,  boys,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  placed  the 
sombrero  on  his  head,  "  as  soon  as  you  have  had 
rest  enough,  catch  up  and  start  again.  Don't  waste 
an  hour,  but  be  careful  and  not  tire  your  horses  out 
by  reckless  riding.  When  you  reach  Brownsville, 
go  to  the  best  hotel,  and  wait  for  Uncle  John.  Ned 
has  all  the  money  you  need,"  added  George,  who 
had  taken  pains  to  see  that  there  was  an  exchange 
of  purses  as  well  as  an  exchange  of  clothing. 

"But  what  is  going  to  become  of  you?"  asked 
Ned,  as  if  the  question  had  just  occurred  to  him. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  George;  and 
it  was  right  on  the  end  of  his  tongue  to  add : 
"  Probably  your  father  will  tell  you  if  you  will  ask 
him  the  next  time  you  see  him,"  but  he  did  not 
utter  the  words.  It  was  more  than  likely  that 
Springer's  story  was  all  false,  and  that  Uncle  John 
knew  nothing  whatever  about  this  matter.  At  any 
rate  he  would  not  accuse  him  until  he  had  received 
positive  proof  of  his  guilt. 


320  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"  What  makes  you  let  them  carry  you  off  in  thia 
way,  anyhow?"  demanded  Ned. 

"What  else  can  I  do?  I  can't  whip  two  grown 
men  with  my  bare  hands,  can  I?" 

"  I  always  heard  that  the  Ackerrnans  was  a 
plucky  lot,"  said  the  man  who  was  keeping  guard 
over  George,  "but  I  didn't  allow  to  find  a  kid  like 
you  so  cool  an'  careless-like.  Have  you  done  talkin' 
enough  now,  do  you  reckon  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  given  all  the  advice  I  can  think  of, 
and  I  will  be  ready  to  go  with  you  as  soon  as  I  can 
saddle  my  horse." 

"You  needn't  mind  takin'  that  lasso  off."  said 
the  man,  as  George  was  about  to  untie  the  lariat 
with  which  his  horse  was  fastened  to  the  picket-pin. 
"  'Cause  why,  we'll  leave  it  jist  as  it  is,  you  know, 
an'  I'll  hang  on  to  this  yere  eend  of  it." 

The  boy  was  surprised  at  the  precautions  his 
captor  thought  it  necessary  to  take  in  order  to  pre 
vent  any  attempt  at  escape,  and  told  himself  that 
the  man  was  going  to  a  good  deal  of  trouble  for 
nothing.  If  there  had  been  the  least  chance  for 
flight  or  successful  resistance  George  would  promptly 
have  taken  advantage  of  it,  as  he  did  a  few  days 
afterward,  but  he  was  not  foolhardy  enough  to  run  a 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  321 

race  with  a  bullet  from  the  ruffian's  revolver.  While 
he  was  putting  the  saddle  and  bridle  on  his  horse  he 
repeated  all  the  instructions  he  had  given  Ned, 
and  when  he  could  no  longer  find  an  excuse  foi 
delaying  his  departure,  he  shook  hands  with  his 
companions,  bade  them  good-by  and  rode  away 
between  the  two  cattle-thieves,  one  of  whom  held 
fast  to  the  lasso  which  was  around  the  neck  of 
George's  horse.  Ned  and  Gus  stood  in  the  edge  of 
the  timber  watching  him  as  long  as  he  remained  in 
sight,  and  when  he  disappeared  behind  the  nearest 
swell,  they  sat  down  on  their  blankets  and  looked  at 
each  other, 

"  0,  Gus,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if  you 
were  not  here  with  me !"  exclaimed  Ned,  who  was 
the  first  to  speak. 

"Don't  you,  indeed!"  replied  his  companion. 
"  Have  you  forgotten  how  squarely  you  went  back 
on  me  no  longer  ago  than  last  night?  You  just  as 
good  as  told  me  that  you  had  seen  enough  of  me. 
You  could  get  along  without  me  well  enough  while 
you  had  your  cousin  to  lean  on,  but  now  that  he  is 
gone,  I  am  a  bully  boy  again.  No,  sir;  you  can't 
throw  me  away  and  pick  me  up  again  when  you 

please,  now  I  tell  you!'' 
21 


322  GEORGE    IN    CAMP  ;    OR, 

"  0,  don't  talk  that  way !"  whined  Ned,  who 
knew  that  he  was  powerless,  and  that  everything 
depended  upon  Gus.  "  I  didn't  mean  it.  I  was 
frightened  out  of  my  senses,  and  didn't  know  what 
I  was  saying." 

"  No,  you  were  not  frightened.  You  had  got  all 
over  it  and  were  laughing  about  the  'lark'  you  had 
had.  You  said  it,  whether  you  meant  it  or  not,  and 
I  shall  take  you  at  your  word." 

"You  are  not  going  to  leave  me?"  Ned  almost 
gasped. 

"  Yes,  I  am.  When  we  reach  Brownsville,  if  we 
ever  do,  you  will  see  the  last  of  me." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.    I  haven't  made  up  my  mind  yet. 
I  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  now :   I  am  going  to 
.  sleep." 

Ned  could  not  understand  how  Gus  could  take 
the  matter  so  coolly.  He  was  slumbering  heavily  in 
less  than  five  minutes  after  he  arranged  his  blankets, 
while  Ned,  whose  excitement  would  not  permit  him 
to  sleep,  tossed  uneasily  about,  thinking  over  the 
incidents  of  the  last  few  hours,  and  trembling  when 
he  looked  forward  to  the  long  journey  before  him 
and  its  possible  ending. 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  323 

"I  am  not  out  of  danger  yet,"  he  kept  saying  to 
himself,  "  for  if  I  were,  George  would  not  have 
traded  clothes  with  me.  He  has  been  pretty  good 
to  me,  I  must  say.  It  isn't  every  fellow  who  would 
stand  by  a  cousin  as  he  has  stood  by  me,  and  I 
almost  wish  I  had  treated  him  a  little  better.  Per 
haps  I  shall  never  see  him  again.  Well,  if  I 
don't " 

Clasping  his  hands  under  his  head  Ned  lay  back 
on  his  blanket  and  proceeded  to  follow  out  the  train 
of  thought  that  had  so  suddenly  suggested  itself  to 
him.  The  prospect  of  stepping  into  possession  of  a 
property  worth  forty  thousand  dollars  a  year  was  a 
pleasing  one ;  and  while  he  was  wondering  what  he 
should  do  with  so  much  money,  and  how  he  could 
spend  it  to  the  best  advantage,  his  weariness  over 
came  him,  and  he  sank  into  a  dreamless  sleep. 
When  he  awoke  the  sun  had  climbed  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  woods,  and  the  shadows  of  the 
trees  were  thrown  far  out  on  the  plain,  showing  that 
the  day  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Gus  was  already 
stirring.  He  had  rolled  up  his  blankets,  and  was 
just  putting  the  saddle  on  his  horse  when  Ned 
opened  his  eyes. 


324  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

"Where  are  you  going?"  demanded  the  latter,  in 
some  alarm. 

"  I  am  going  to  start  out  and  see  if  I  can  find  a 
house,"  replied  Gus.  "I  have  a  little  money  in 
my  pocket,  and  while  it  lasts  I  am  not  going  to  sleep 
out  of  doors  or  go  hungry,  either!" 

"You  needn't  spend  a  cent  of  it,"  said  Ned, 
hastily  jumping  to  his  feet  and  folding  his  blankets. 
"I've  got  enough  for  both  of  us.  You  were  not 
going  away  without  me,  were  you?" 

Gus,  who  was  whistling  softly  to  himself,  made  no 
reply  to  this  question,  although  his  companion  was 
sure  he  had  heard  it.  His  silence  was  enough  to 
excite  Ned's  suspicions,  and  to  thoroughly  frighten 
him,  also.  Did  Gus  intend  to  desert  him  ?  If  so, 
what  would  he  (Ned)  do  when  he  was  left  to  himself? 

"I've  made  him  mad  and  I  don't  know  how  to 
get  him  good-natured  again,"  was  Ned's  mental 
reflection.  "  If  I  can  only  keep  him  with  me  until 
father  comes  to  Brownsville,  he  can  clear  out  and 
welcome.  I  must  keep  a  close  watch  over  him  or 
he'll  come  up  minus  some  fine  morning." 

While  these  thoughts  were  passing  through  Ned's 
mind,  he  caught  up  his  saddle  and  bridle  and  hurried 
out  to  put  them  on  his  horse. 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  325 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

"FT  was  a  very  unsociable  pair  who  rode  away  from 
"  the  woods  that  afternoon.  Ned,  who  knew  that 
he  could  not  take  care  of  himself,  tried  his  best  to 
heal  the  breach  that  had  been  caused  between  him 
self  and  his  companion,  by  the  hasty  and  ungener 
ous  words  he  had  uttered  the  night  before,  but  Gus 
repelled  all  his  advances.  Knowing  that  his  old 
friend  would  drop  him  again  as  soon  as  he  could 
find  some  one  else  to  lean  on,  Gus  would  have 
nothing  to  say  to  him ;  so  Ned  gave  up  in  despair, 
and  rode  along  in  silence.  "We  may  add  that  this 
was  the  way  they  travelled  every  day,  until  they 
reached  Brownsville.  Gus  stopped  for  the  night 
when  and  where  he  pleased,  resumed  his  journey  in 
the  morning  when  he  got  ready,  and  never  consulted 
Ned,  who  was  at  liberty  to  follow  or  stay  behind, 
just  as  he  chose. 


326  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  on, 

The  boys  soon  found  the  trail  which  they  had  113 
difficulty  in  following,  for  it  was  as  plain  as  a  wagon 
road.  Indeed,  it  was  a  wagon  road,  for  it  was  used 
by  the  settlers  and  army  teamsters  in  hauling  goods 
up  and  down  the  river.  Gus  at  once  set  off  at  a 
sharp  gallop  and  Ned  lumbered  along  a  few  paces  in 
his  rear.  They  rode  in  this  way  until  the  sun  sank 
out  of  sight,  and  the  shadows  of  twilight  began  to 
deepen  into  the  gloom  of  night,  and  Gus  Avas  telling 
himself  that  there  was  a  fair  prospect  that  they 
would  be  obliged  to  go  supperless  to  bed,  when  his 
eyes  were  gladdened  by  the  sight  of  a  rancho  a  little 
distance  away.  Urging  his  horse  forward  at  a  faster 
pace,  he  drew  up  in  front  of  the  building  a  moment 
later,  and  was  welcomed  by  a  half  a  dozen  ill-looking 
curs,  which  ran  out  and  barked  at  him  vociferously. 

"  Hallo,  in  there!"  shouted  Gus,  hardly  believing 
that  he  could  make  himself  heard  above  the  din 
raised  by  the  angry  pack  which  surrounded  him. 
"  Anybody  at  home  ?" 

"Get  out,  ye  brutes!"  roared  a  voice  from  the 
inside.  u  Alight  an'  hitch,  strangers." 

The  dogs  retreated  under  the  porch,  where  they 
remained  growling  savagely,  and  now  and  then 
giving  utterance  to  an  impatient  bark,  and  presently 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  327 

the  owner  of  the  voice  appeared  in  the  open  door. 
In  dress  and  appearance  he  was  in  perfect  keeping 
with  his  surroundings,  which,  when  the  boys  came 
to  look  at  them,  they  found  to  be  of  the  most  primi 
tive  character.  The  house  was  a  rambling  old 
structure,  built  of  logs  and  rough,  unpainted  boards. 
There  were  wide  gaps  in  the  shingles  on  the  roof, 
and  the  rickety  porch  groaned  and  creaked  as  the 
man  stepped  upon  it.  The  few  outbuildings  that 
could  be  seen  were  in  the  same  dilapidated  condi 
tion.  The  house  was  undoubtedly  the  home  of  a 
squatter,  who  made  his  living  by  pasturing  cattle  on 
government  land. 

"Alight  an'  hitch,  strangers,"  repeated  the  man. 
"  You're  welcome  to  sich  as  we've  got,  an'  that  ain't 
none  of  the  best,  I  can  tell  you.  You  see  we 'went 
back  into  the  country  to  git  shet  of  the  raiders  an' 
we've  jest  come  hum  to-day." 

"Did  you  lose  any  of  your  cattle?"  asked  Gus, 
and  after  he  had  asked  the  question,  he  was  sur 
prised  at  himself  for  doing  it.  Probably  the  man 
owned  two  or  three  cows,  which  supplied  his  family 
with  milk,  and  the  raiders  would  not  go  far  :ut  of 
their  way  to  pick  up  such  a  herd  as  that. 

"Nary   hoof,"   replied   the   squatter,  with   a  tri 


328  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    OR, 

umphant  air.     "I  tuk  my  three  thousand  head  safe 
off  an'  brung  'em  all  back  agin!" 

Gus  was  astonished.  The  man  was  rich.  He 
was  worth  at  least  sixty  thousand  dollars  (Gus  had 
heard  that  beef  cattle  were  worth  twenty  dollars 
a  piece)  and  yet  he  lived  in  a  hovel  at  which  a 
respectable  dog  would  turn  up  his  nose.  It  looked 
so  untidy  and  altogether  forbidding  that  Gus  did 
not  want  to  go  into  it ;  but  knowing  that  he  would 
find  plenty  to  eat  in  there,  and  believing  that  he 
could  find  a  shelter  somewhere  under  the  leaky  roof, 
he  dismounted,  and  the  squatter  came  down  the 
steps  and  took  charge  of  his  horse. 

"  Go  right  in,  strangers,"  said  he.  "  The  ole 
woman's  in  thar,  an'  I  reckon  supper's  'most 
ready." 

Gus  went  in,  but  Ned,  who  felt  very  lonely  and 
down-hearted,  seated  himself  on  the  porch  and 
brooded  over  his  troubles.  The  former  found  that 
the  living-room,  which  was  the  one  he  entered,  was 
as  uninviting  as  the  outside  of  the  house.  The  floor 
was  littered  with  various  odds  and  ends,  including 
saddles,  bridles,  horse-blankets  and  old  boots,  and 
t,he  holes  in  the  walls  were  covered  with  hides  which 
were  hung  up  over  them  to  keep  out  the  wind  and 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS. 

rain.  One  side  of  the  room  was  occupied  by  an 
immense  fire-place,  in  front  of  which  stood  the 
squatter's  wife,  who  was  busy  with  her  preparations 
for  supper.  She  looked  up  when  the  boy  entered, 
waved  a  case-knife  toward  an  old  chest  which  stood 
beside  the  door,  and  requested  him  to  sit  down ;  and 
that  was  the  only  time  Gus  heard  her  speak  while 
he  remained  at  the  rancho. 

The  boys  fared  a  great  deal  better  than  they 
expected.  The  supper  was  abundant  and  well 
cooked,  but  the  dishes  on  which  it  was  served  up 
might  have  been  a  little  cleaner.  The  squatter  was 
very  sociable  in  his  way,  and  after  entertaining  the 
young  travellers  with  many  stories  of  exciting  and 
amusing  adventure  drawn  from  his  own  experience, 
he  asked  them  where  they  came  from  and  where  they 
were  going. 

"  I  don't  know  "where  I  am  going,"  answered  Gus, 
ignoring  the  first  part  of  the  question,  and  speaking 
entirely  for  himself.  "  I  am  looking  for  a  chance  to 
go  into  business  of  some  kind,  and  if  I  could  get 
stock  enough  to  begin  on  I  might  be  tempted  to  try 
cattle-raising  on  the  squatter  plan." 

This  was  enough  to  set  their  host  to  going  again, 
and  during  the  rest  of  the  evening  he  kept  the  boys 


330  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

interested.  He  told  of  his  own  trials  and  failures, 
and  gave  Gus  some  advice  which  might  have  been 
valuable  to  him  had  he  thought  seriously  of  going 
into  the  business  of  cattle-raising.  The  squatter 
talked  almost  incessantly  until  ten  o'clock,  and  then 
seeing  that  Gus  began  to  yawn  he  stopped  abruptly 
and  led  the  boys  into  an  adjoining  room. 

"  I  brung  your  saddles  an'  things  in  yere,"  said  he. 
"  You  can  spread  your  blankets  on  the  floor  an'  sleep 
as  comfor'ble  as  you  please.  Mebbe  the  roof '11  leak 
a  little  if  it  rains,  an'  if  it  does,  you  can  come  in 
an'  lay  down  in  front  of  the  fire.  All  night  to 
you !" 

So  saying  the  squatter  left  the  room,  and  the  boys 
began  groping  about  in  the  dark  in  search  of  their 
saddles,  to  which  their  blankets  and  ponchos  were 
fastened.  They  found  them  at  last,  and  after  mak 
ing  their  beds  they  lay  down  on  them  without  bid 
ding  each  other  good-night,  and  prepared  to  go  to 
sleep.  It  was  very  probable  that  the  room  would 
leak  a  little  in  case  of  a  sudden  shower,  Gus  thought, 
as  he  looked  up  at  the  roof.  There  were  several 
holes  in  it,  and  some  of  them  were  so  large  that  he 
could  have  crept  through  them.  He  lay  there  for  a 
long  time  looking  up  at  the  stars,  thinking  of  his 


LIFE    ON    THE    PLAINS.  331 

home,  and  telling  himself  how  foolish  he  was  to  run 
away  from  it  just  in  time  to  miss  that  excursion  to 
the  trout  streams  of  the  Adirondacks,  and  when  his 
eye-lids  were  beginning  to  grow  heavy  and  the  holes 
in  the  roof  to  assume  fantastic  shapes,  Ned  suddenly 
started  up  and  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"What's  that?"  said  he,  in  a  low  whisper. 
"  Don't  you  hear  something  ?" 

Gus  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant.  He  held  his 
breath  and  listened  for  a  moment,  and  then  sank 
back  in  his  blanket  again. 

"  I  don't  see  any  sense  in  frightening  a  fellow 
half  to  death  for  nothing  !"  said  he.  "Let  me  alone, 
now.  I  want  to  go  to  sleep !" 

"  But  I  hear  horses,"  whispered  Ned.  "  They're 
coming  fast,  too." 

"So  do  I  hear  them;  but  what  of  it?"  replied 
Gus. 

He  spoke  as  though  he  took  no  interest  whatever 
in  the  matter,  but  if  Ned  could  have  seen  his  face, 
he  would  have  found  that  it  was  growing  whiter 
every  moment.  Gus  heard  the  sound  of  the  hoofs 
plainly  enough,  but  until  Ned  spoke  it  never  re 
curred  to  him  that  the  horses  which  made  the  noise 
might  be  ridden  by  men  who  were  in  pursuit  of 


332  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

himself  and  his  companion.  A  few  seconds  later 
the  dogs  were  aroused  and  rushed  out  in  a  body  to 
salute  the  approaching  horsemen.  Ned  hoped  from 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  that  they  would  pass  on 
without  stopping,  but  in  this  he  was  disappointed. 
The  horsemen  came  straight  toward  the  house,  the 
sound  of  the  hoofs  ceased  suddenly  in  front  of  the 
porch,  and  a  voice  that  made  Ned  tremble  all  over 
rang  out  on  the  air. 

"  Hallo,  the  house !"  came  the  hail. 

"  Get  out,  ye  brutes!"  shouted  the  squatter; 
wrhereupon  the  dogs  scattered  and  took  refuge  under 
the  porch.  "  Alight  an'  hitch,  strangers.  I'll  be 
thar  in  a  minute!" 

The  boys  heard  their  host  moving  about  the  living- 
room  and  mending  the  fire  to  make  it  blaze.  Then 
he  opened  the  door  and  they  listened  with  all  their 
ears  to  hear  what  passed  between  him  and  the  new 
comers.  As  there  wras  but  one  thin  board  partition 
(and  that  was  full  of  wide  cracks)  between  them  and 
the  door,  they  could  catch  every  word  that  was 
uttered. 

"  Alight  an'  hitch,  strangers,"  said  the  squatter, 
repeating  his  stereotyped  invitation.  "  You're  wel- 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  333 

come  to  sich  as  we've  got,  an'  that  ain't  none  of  the 
best,  I  can  tell  you." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  the  same  voice  that  had 
hailed  the  house ;  and  when  Ned  heard  it  he  trem 
bled  again.  "  If  you  will  let  us  spread  our  blankets 
on  your  porch,  and  will  give  us  a  bite  to  eat  in  the 
morning,  we  shall  be  much  obliged.  We'll  not  ask 
you  to  get  supper  for  us.  It  is  too  late." 

"No  occasion,  stranger;  no  occasion,"  replied  the 
hospitable  squatter.  "  Ole  woman,  here's  a  couple 
of  hungry  gentlemen  out  here  who  want  something 
to  eat.  Travellin'  fur,  strangers?" 

"We've  ridden  about  seventy-five  miles.  Have 
you  seen  a  party  of  four  persons  pass  this  way  to 
day,  one  of  them  a  young  fellow,  riding  a  dark 
chestnut  horse  with  white  mane  and  tail,  and  four 
white  feet?" 

"  Gracious  !"  thought  Ned. 

"Aha!"  said  Gus,  to  himself,  at  the  same  time 
drawing  a  long  breath  of  relief.  "  He  didn't  say  a 
word  about  the  cattle  that  were  shot,  so  I  have 
nothing  to  fear.  Ned  can  look  out  for  number  one ; 
that's  what  he  was  going  to  make  me  do.  But  he 
asked  after  four  persons.  Who  is  the  other,  I 


334  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

wonder?  There  were  but  three  of  us  before  George 
was  taken  away." 

"Ain't  seed  no  sich,"  replied  the  squatter. 

"That's  very  strange,"  said  the  voice.  "They 
must  have  come  this  way,  for  they  are  going  to 
Brownsville.  The  fellow  who  rode  this  horse  wore 
a  sombrero,  high  patent  leather  boots  and  a  buck 
skin  coat  with  silver  buttons.  He  carried  an  ivory- 
handled  riding-whip,  had  silver-plated  spurs  on  his 
heels,  and  the  horse  wore  a  gold-mounted  saddle 
and  bridle." 

"Ain't  seed  no  sich,"  repeated  the  squatter,  while 
Ned  wondered  where  the  man  had  obtained  so  accu 
rate  a  description  of  him. 

"  They  couldn't  have  gone  by  without  attracting 
your  attention,  could  they?" 

"Nary  time.  I  see  everybody  who  goes  along 
this  trail  by  daylight.  Come  in,  gentlewzew.  The 
ole  woman'll  cook  you  a  bite  of  something  an'  I'll 
look  arter  your  critters." 

The  listening  boys  knew  when  the  unwelcome 
visitors  dismounted  and  entered  the  house,  and  Gus, 
who  sat  where  he  could  look  through  one  of  the 
widest  cracks  into  the  living-room,  the  interior  of 
which  was  now  brightly  lighted  up  by  the  fire  on 


LIFE    OX   THE    PLAINS.  335 

the  hearth,  noticed  that  the  squatter's  wife  motioned 
to  them  with  a  case-knife,  to  sit  down  on  the  chest 
by  the  side  of  the  door.  After  Gus  had  taken  a 
good  look  at  them,  he  did  not  wonder  that  their 
appearance  frightened  Ned  so  badly  that  he  dared 
not  confess  that  the  stolen  horse  was  in  his  posses 
sion.  Ned  could  not  see  the  men,  but  he  knew  they 
were  in  the  next  room,  and  not  more  than  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  from  him.  What  would  become  of  him 
when  they  discovered  that  he  was  in  the  house?  He 
would  certainly  meet  them  the  next  morning  at  the 
breakfast  table,  and  if  they  recognised  him,  it  would 
be  all  over  with  Ned  Ackerman. 

"  I  wonder  why  father  didn't  settle  the  matter 
with  them,  as  George  told  him  to  do!"  thought  Ned, 
who  always  blamed  somebody  beside  himself  for  the 
trouble  he  got  into.  "He  had  the  money,  he  ought 
to  have  done  it,  and  he  has  got  me  into  a  pretty 
mess  by  not  doing  it.  If  I  ever  see  him  again,  I'll 
give  him  a  piece  of  my  mind,  I  bet  you." 

Another  thing  that  aroused  the  boy's  anger,  wag 
the  manner  in  which  Gus  conducted  himself.  While 
Ned  was  sitting  upon  his  blanket,  trembling  in  every 
muscle  and  living  in  momentary  expectation  of  dis 
covery,  Gus  had  the  impudence  to  lie  down  and  roll 


336  GEORGE   IN   CAMP  ;    Oil, 

over  on  his  side  with  his  hand  under  his  chgek, 
as  if  he  were  trying  to  go  to  sleep.  Ned  could  see 
it  all  by  the  aid  of  the  light  which  streamed  in 
through  the  cracks  in  the  partition. 

"Say,  Gus,"  he  whispered,  shaking  his  com 
panion  as  roughly  as  he  dared,  "what  am  I  to  do? 
Get  up  and  suggest  something." 

"  I  don't  care  what  you  do,"  answered  Gus,  who 
thought  this  a  good  time  to  pay  Ned  for  what  he 
had  said  the  night  before.  "  It  is  none  of  my 
funeral.  I  didn't  steal  the  horse." 

"Neither  did  I,"  said  Ned,  who  was  so  angry 
that  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  control  himself. 
"  Shall  I  creep  out  of  the  house,  if  I  can  get  out, 
or  shall  I  stay  here  and  take  my  chances  ?" 

"Do  just  as  you  please.  I  am  not  interested  in 
the  matter  at  all." 

"Your  critters  is  done  took  care  on  !"  exclaimed 
the  squatter,  who  came  in  at  that  moment.  "  What's 
this  yere  feller  with  the  silver  buttons  an'  the 
boss  with  the  white  stockins  on  been  a  doin' 
of?" 

"  The  boy  is  a  receiver  of  stolen  property,"  came 
the  reply,  in  a  tone  which  made  Ned  tremble  more 
violently  than  ever.  "  Do  you  know  anything 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  337 

about  the  people  who  live  in  the  Ackermau  settle 
ment?" 

"  Never  heard  tell  of  none  of  'em,"  answered  the 
squatter. 

"It  is  my  opinion  that  they  are  no  better  than 
they  should  be,"  continued  the  owner  of  the  stolen 
horse.  "  Every  man  and  boy  we  met  except  one  is  a 
friend  to  this  fellow  who  ran  off  with  my  property. 
That  one's  name  was  Cook.  He  has  lost  some 
cattle  through  this  same  Ned  Acker  man,  and  is  very 
anxious  he  should  be  caught.  I  am  going  to  have 
that  horse  if  he  is  in  the  state." 

"  And  we're  going  to  have  the  boy  who  ran  away 
with  him,  too,"  added  the  other  rancheman. 

Slowly  and  cautiously  Ned  stretched  himself  upon 
his  blanket,  and  drawing  his  body  into  as  small  a 
compass  as  he  could,  as  if  he  hoped  in  this  way  to 
lessen  the  chances  for  discovery,  he  lay  and  listened 
to  the  conversation  that  followed.  The  visitors 
talked  principally  about  cattle-raising,  and  there  was 
little  more  said  concerning  the  lost  steed  and  the  boy 
who  was  supposed  to  have  run  away  with  him ;  but 
that  little  served  to  convince  Ned,  if  he  needed  any 
further  proof,  that  the  men  were  determined  they 

would  not  go  home  until  they  had  captured  him  and 

22 


338  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

recovered  the  horse.  As  soon  as  they  had  eaten  the 
supper  that  had  been  prepared  for  them  the  squatter 
offered  to  show  them  where  they  could  spread  their 
blankets ;  and  Ned's  heart  almost  stopped  beating 
when  he  heard  the  three  men  enter  the  narrow  hall 
leading  to  the  room  occupied  by  himself  and  Gus. 
At  the  same  time  a  faint  light  shone  in  upon  him, 
and  Ned  saw  that  the  doorway  was  concealed  by  a 
tattered  blanket.  The  light  shone  through  this 
blanket,  which,  while  Ned  looked  at  it,  was  raised, 
admitting  the  squatter,  who  carried  a  blazing  fire 
brand  in  his  hand. 

"  Come  right  in  here,"  said  he,  as  he  held  up  the 
blanket ;  and  Ned  was  almost  ready  to  faint  when 
he  saw  the  ranchemen  enter,  each  carrying  his  saddle 
in  his  hand.  "  These  yere  is  two  chaps  who  is  out 
cattle-buyin',"  continued  the  squatter,  waving  his 
fire-brand  toward  the  boys.  "  An'  these  yere  is  two 
fellers  lookin'  for  a  hoss-thief.  Know  yourselves, 
gentlemen  /" 

Believing  that  by  this  introduction  he  had  made 
the  two  parties  acquainted  with  each  other,  the 
squatter  relapsed  into  silence  and  held  up  his  fire 
brand  so  that  the  ranchemen  could  see  to  arrange 
*Jieir  beds.  The  latter  nodded  to  the  boys  and 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  339 

wished  a  hearty  good-evening  to  which  Gus  alone 
responded.  Ned  could  not  have  uttered  a  word  to 
save  his  life.  Was  it  possible  that  he  could  stay  in 
the  same  room  with  those  men  all  night?  He 
thought  they  looked  at  him  a  little  suspiciously,  and 
to  show  them  that  he  was  not  the  boy  who  wore  the 
high  patent-leather  boots  and  silver  buttons,  Ned 
threw  off  his  blanket  so  that  all  his  clothes  could  be 
seen. 

"  Buying  cattle,  eh  ?"  said  the  owner  of  the  horse. 
"  Going  into  the  ranche  business?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  do  anything  better," 
replied  Gus. 

"  You  don't  want  anything  better  if  you  manage 
rightly,"  said  the  man.  "I  have  known  young  fel 
lows  like  you  and  your  partner  to  start  out  with  a 
few  head  of  stock  and  make  themselves  rich  before 
4hey  were  forty  years  old.  But  of  course  they 
worked  hard  and  attended  strictly  to  business. 
That's  the  only  way  to  get  on  in  this  world.  Now, 
my  friend,  we  shall  not  need  your  light  any  longer." 

Ned  was  glad  indeed  when  the  squatter  dropped 
the  blanket  to  its  place  and  went  out  with  his  fire 
brand.  He  wan  glad,  too,  that  the  ranchemen  were 
tired  and  sleepy,  for  he  did  not  want  to  hear  them 


340  GEORGE   IN    CAM1»',    OR, 

talk.  He  was  afraid  that  they  might  address  some 
of  their  remarks  to  him.  They  did  not  know  him 
in  his  cousin's  clothes,  and  they  did  not  recognise 
his  face  for  the  reason  that  they  had  not  obtained  a 
fair  view  of  it  on  the  night  they  visited  the  rancho; 
but  they  had  heard  his  voice,  and  they  might 
remember  it  if  they  heard  it  again.  So  Ned  deter 
mined  that  he  would  not  speak.  He  pretended  to 
fall  asleep  immediately,  but  the  fact  was  he  did  not 
sleep  a  wink  that  night.  The  mere  presence  of  the 
men  who  were  hunting  him  so  perseveringly  was 
enough  to  keep  him  wide  awake.  The  long  hours 
of  night  had  never  dragged  so  slowly  away  before, 
nor  had  Ned  ever  longed  so  impatiently  for  the  day 
light.  The  first  gray  streaks  of  dawn  which  came 
creeping  in  through  the  wide  cracks  in  the  walls 
around  the  slumbering  ranchemen  who,  after  ex 
changing  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  arose 
and  left  the  room,  taking  their  blankets  and  saddles 
with  them.  Ned  heard  them  in  conversation  with 
the  squatter,  and  wished  most  heartily  that  the  latter 
would  not  be  so  persistent  in  his  efforts  to  keep  them 
until  breakfast  was  over.  He  did  not  want  the 
ranchemen  to  see  him  by  daylight,  and  he  was  over 
joyed  to  hear  them  declare  that  all  they  wanted  was 


LIFE   ON   THE   PLAINS.  841 

a  cold  bite,  and  if  their  host  would  provide  them 
with  that  they  would  be  off.  The  cold  bite  was 
speedily  forthcoming,  and  when  the  ranchemen  had 
done  full  justice  to  it,  they  mounted  their  horses 
and  rode  away.  Then  Ned  breathed  easily  for  tho 
first  time  in  long  hours. 

This  was  the  last  adventure  that  befell  our  young 
travellers  while  they  were  on  their  way  to  Browns 
ville.  They  never  went  a  mile  out  of  their  way; 
they  fared  well  along  the  route,  and  their  meals  and 
lodging  did  not  cost  them  a  cent.  The  door  of  any 
rancho  or  farm-house  that  happened  to  be  in  sight 
when  night  came  was  open  to  them,  the  owner 
treated  them  like  honored  guests,  and  always  refused 
to  accept  any  remuneration.  They  rode  into  Browns 
ville  one  morning  about  ten  o'clock.  Having  made 
inquiries  at  their  last  night's  stopping-place  they 
knew  the  name  of  the  best  hotel  and  where  to  go  to 
find  it,  and  toward  it  they  directed  their  course. 
Giving  their  horses  in  charge  of  a  man  who  came 
out  to  meet  them  as  they  drew  up  in  front  of  the 
door,  they  went  in,  and  Ned,  having  signed  his  name 
to  the  register,  called  for  a  room. 

"  Gus  has  treated  me  as  though  I  wasn't  Ned 
Ackerman  at  all,"  thought  he,  as  he  followed  the 


342  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OK, 

bell-boy  up  the  stairs.  "  He  has  travelled  on  his 
own  hook,  leaving  me  to  take  care  of  myself,  and 
now  I, am  going  to  pay  him  back  in  his  own  coin, 
He  ought  to  come  and  make  things  straight  with 
me,  if  he  only  knew  it,  for  he  can't  have  the  cheek 
to  go  home  again  after  what  he  has  done." 

But  Gus  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  making 
things  straight.  He  had  had  quite  enough  of  his  old 
friend,  and  he  was  just  as  independent  as  Ned  was. 
He  did  not  register  his  name,  but  went  into  the 
wash-room,  and  after  removing  all  the  travel-stains 
from  his  hands,  face  and  clothing,  he  came  out,  and 
left  the  hotel.  It  was  a  long  time  before  Ned  heard 
where  he  went  and  what  he  did. 

Meanwhile,  Ned  was  working  hard  with  a  brush 
broom,  a  piece  of  soap  and  a  coarse  towel,  to  make 
himself  presentable;  but  when  he  got  through  and 
took  a  look  at  himself  in  the  mirror,  he  was  any 
thing  but  pleased  with  the  result.  His  hands  and  face 
were  very  brown,  and  his  red  shirt  looked  as  though 
it  had  been  through  two  or  three  wars.  "  I  can't 
stand  this.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,"  thought  he.. 
"  I  noticed  as  I  came  along,  that  there  were  a  good 
many  stylish  young  fellows  on  the  street,  and  I  am 
not  going  among  them  with  such  clothes  as  these  on 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  343 

Fortunately,  I  have  money  enough  to  rig  myself  out 
equal  to  the  best  of  them.  If  I  only  had  my  nobby 
suit  now,  wouldn't  I  make  folks  stare  ;" 

Ned  went  down  stairs  and  out  of  the  hotel, 
When  he  returned,  about  half  an  hour  later,  he  car 
ried  a  satchel  in  his  hand  and  a  bundle  under  his 
arm.  He  made  his  way  to  his  room,  and  when  he 
came  out  again,  no  one  who  had  seen  him  when  he 
rode  into  town  would  have  taken  him  for  the  same 
boy.  Gus  Bobbins  would  have  been  obliged  to  look 
twice  at  him  before  he  could  have  recognised  him. 
His  cousin's  coarse  clothing  had  been  exchanged  for 
a  broadcloth  suit  of  the  latest  and  most  fashionable 
cut,  and  the  wearer  looked  like  a  dapper  young  clerk 
out  for  a  holiday. 

Being  satisfied  now  that  he  could  appear  on  the 
streets  without  attracting  any  but  admiring  glances, 
Ned  went  down  to  the  office  The  clerk  was  not 
there,  and  while  the  boy  stood  leaning  against  the 
counter,  waiting  for  him  to  come  in  so  that  lie  could 
give  him.  his  key,  he  heard  a  voice  behind  him — a 
familiar  voice,  that  made  the  cold  chills  creep  all  over 
him.  He  knew  who  the  owner  of  the  voice  was,  but 
some  strange  fascination  compelled  him  to  turn  his 
head  and  look  at  him.  over  his  shoulder.  There 


344  GEOKGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

were  two  men  standing  in  front  of  the  counter  with 
the  register  before  them.  One  held  a  pen  in  his 
hand,  and  was  on  the  point  of  writing  his  name, 
when  another  name  above  the  first  vacant  line 
attracted  his  attention. 

"Why,  look  here,  Joe,"  said  he.  "' Edward 
AcJcerman.'  That's  our  man.  He  was  coming  to 
Brownsville,  you  know." 

"So  he  was,"  sjiid  Joe. 

Just  then  the  clerk  passed  around  behind  the 
counter.  He  looked  at  Ned  as  he  went  by,  but  did 
not  act  as  though  he  had  ever  seen  him  before. 

"Mr.  Clerk,"  said  the  owner  of  the  stolen  horse, 
for  it  was  he,  "who  is  this  Edward  Ackerman?" 

"Don't  know  him,"  answered  the  clerk.     "  He's 


a  stranger. 


"What  sort  of  a  looking  fellow  is  he?" 

"  0,  he's  roughly  dressed,  and  looks  as  though  he 
might  be  a  cow-boy !" 

"That  doesn't  answer  the  description,  but  we 
might  have  a  peep  at  him  if  he  is  in  his  room. 
Show  us  up,  will  you?" 

The  clerk  sounded  his  signal-bell,  and  when  the 
boy  came  up  in  answer  to  it,  he  was  commanded  to 
show  the  gentlemen  up  to  number  thirty-three. 


LIFE    ON   THE   PLAINS.  345 

Ned  watched  them  as  they  followed  the  boy  up  the 
stairs,  and  then  left  the  counter  and  went  out  on  the 
street.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  give  up  the 
key  of  his  room  and  send  for  his  valise,  which  con 
tained  the  rest  of  the  clothing  he  had  just  purchased, 
but  he  could  do  neither  without  exposing  himself  on 
the  spot. 

"  Am  I  never  going  to  see  the  last  of  those  men?'* 
thought  Ned,  as  he  hurried  along,  turning  every 
corner  he  came  to,  as  if  he  hoped  in  that  way,  to 
leave  his  pursuers  behind  for  ever.  "  I  can't  stay  at 
that  hotel  if  they  are  going  to  stop  there.  I  wish 
father  would  hurry  up.  I  shall  be  in  danger  as 
long  as  I  am  in  this  town." 

Ned  found  a  second-rate  hotel,  after  a  few 
minutes'  walk,  and  concluded  to  stop  there.  Pro 
fiting  by  his  past  experience,  he  signed  a  ficticious 
name  to  the  register,  and  then  settled  down  to  wait 
as  patiently  as  he  could  for  his  father's  arrival.  He 
waited  almost  a  week,  and  was  beginning  to  fear 
that  he  would  never  come,  when  one  day,  to  his 
his  great  delight,  he  met  him  on  the  street.  Ned's 
first  act  was  to  relate  the  particulars  of  his  two 
adventures  with  the  ranchemen,  and  to  take  his 
father  to  task  for  not  settling  the  matter  with  them. 


346  GEORGE  IN  CAMP;  OR, 

He  never  said  a  word  about  his  cousin's  capture  or 
Gus  Robbins's  sudden  disappearance,  for  those  little 
incidents  were  of  no  consequence  whatever. 

"Those  men  are  following  me  around  under  the 
impression  that  I  still  have  the  horse  in  my  posses 
sion,"  said  Ned,  angrily.  "Why  didn't  you  tell 
them  that  he  went  off  with  the  raiders?" 

"Because  I  didn't  have  the  chance,"  replied  his 
father.  "They  never  came  near  my  house  that 
night.  If  they  will  go  back  to  Mr.  Gilbert's  they 
will  find  money  enough  in  his  hands  to  pay  for  the 
horse  and  for  their  trouble,  too.  By  the  way, 
where's  George?" 

Ned  looked  up  at  his  father  in  surprise.  He  had 
never  before  known  him  to  throw  so  much  earnest 
ness  into  a  simple  question,  or  seem  so  eager  for  an 
answer  to  it. 

"  0,  a  couple  of  Greasers  took  him  away  from 
us !"  said  Ned,  indifferently.  "  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it  by  and  by." 

"  Come  around  to  my  hotel,"  said  Uncle  John, 
hurriedly.  "  I  want  to  know  all  about  it  now.  We 
have  a  good  many  other  things  to  talk  about  also." 

Yes,  they  had  many  things  to  talk  about,  and 
it  took  them  a  long  time  to  explain  matters  so  that 


LIFE    ON   THE    PLAINS.  347 

each  might  know  what  had  happened  to  the  other 
during  their  short  separation.  Ned  told  a  truthful 
story,  but  he  did  not  learn  so  very  much  from  his 
father  in  return.  There  were  some  things  that 
Uncle  John  thought  it  best  to  keep  to  himself. 

And  where  were  George  and  Gus  all  this  while  ? 
The  story  of  their  adventures  is  too  long  to  be  told 
in  this  book.  We  shall  begin  it  immediately  in  the 
second  volume  of  this  series,  and  as  we  go  along  we 
shall  take  up  the  history  of  another  runaway,  Tony 
Richardson  by  name,  of  whose  short  experience 
with  the  ways  of  the  world  we  have  already  had 
something  to  say.  We  shall  also  take  our  hero, 
George  Ackerman,  away  from  his  home,  and  tell 
of  his  experience  and  exploits  in  an  occupation  he 
had  never  dreamed  of  following.  The  volume  will 
be  entitled,  "  GEORGE  AT  THE  WHEEL;  OR,  LIFE  IN 
THE  PILOT-HOUSE." 


THE  END. 


THE 

FAMOUS 

CASTLEMON 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HARRY 
CASTLEMON. 


Specimen  Cover  of  the  Gunboat 
Series. 

No  author  of  the  present  day  has  become  a  greater  favorite  with  boys  than 
"Harry  Castlemon;  "  every  book  by  him  is  sure  to  meet  with  hearty  re 
ception  by  young  readers  generally.  H  s  naturalness  and  vivacity  lead  his 
readers  trom  page  to  page  with  breathless  interest,  and  when  one  volume  is 
finished  the  fascinated  reader,  like  Oliver  Twist,  asks  "  for  more." 

*#*Any  volume  sold  separately. 


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vols.,  I2mo.     Fully  illustrated.     Cloth,  extra,  printed, 

in  colors.     In  box .  $>J  50 

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Frank  on  the  Prairie i  25 

Frank  on  a  Gunboat i  35 

Frank  before  Vicksburg i  25 

Frank  on  the  Lower  Mississippi i  25 


2  PORTER   &   COATES'S   POPULAR  JUVENILES. 

GO  AHEAD  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  3 
vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box  ...............  $3  75 

Go  Ahead  ;  or,  The  Fisher  Boy's  Motto    ......      I   25 

No  Moss  ;  or,  The  Career  of  a  Rolling  Stone  ....       I  25 

Tom  Newcombe  j  or,  The  Boy  of  Bad  Habits     .    .      I  25 

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Castlemon.  3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box  .........  $3  75 

Frank  at  Don  Carlos'  Rancho   ........      i  25 

Prank  among  the  Rancheros   ........      I  25 

Frank  in  the  Mountains  ...........      I  25 

SPORTSMAN'S  CLUB  SERIES.  By  Harry 
Castlemon.  3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.  In  box  .........  $3  75 

The   Sportsman's  Club  in  the  Saddle  ....      I  25 

The  Sportsman's  Club  Afloat    ........      I  25 

The  Sportsman's  Club  among  the  Trappers  .      I  25 

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mon.  3  vols.  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra, 
printed  in  colors.  In  box  ............  $3  75 

Snowed  Up  ;  or,  The  Sportsman's  Club  in  the  Mts.  .      I  25 

Frank  Nelson  in  the  Forecastle  ;  or,  The  Sports 

man's  Club  among  the  Whalers      .........       I  25 

The  Boy  Traders  ;  or,  The  Sportsman's  Club  among 

the  Boers  ...................       I  25 

BOY  TRAPPER  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon. 
3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box  ...............  $3  75 


Buried  Treasure  ;  or,  Old  Jordan's  "  Haunt  "  I  25 
The  Boy  Trapper  ;  or,  How  Dave  Filled  the  Order  .  I  25 
The  Mail  Carrier  ...............  12$ 


PORTER    A   COATES'S   POPULAR   JUVENILES.  3 

ROUGHING  IT  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon. 
3  vols.,  I2mo.  Fully  illustrated.  Cloth,  extra,  printed 
in  colors.  In  box #3  75 

George  in  Camp  ;  or,  Life  on  the  Plains  .....  i  25 
George  at  the  "Wheel ;  or,  Life  in  a  Pilot  House  .  i  25 
George  at  the  Fort ;  or,  Life  Among  the  Soldiers  .  I  25 

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3  vols.,  I2mo.     Fully  illustrated.     Cloth,  extra,  printed 

in  colors.     In  box $3  75 

Don  Gordon's  Shooting  Box I  25 

Rod  and  Gun i  25 

The  Young  Wild  Fowlers i  25 

FOREST  AND  STREAM  SERIES.     By  Harry 

Castlemon.     3  vols.,  I2mo.     Fully  illustrated.     Cloth, 
extra,  printed  in  colors.     In  box $3  75 

Joe  Wayring  at  Home  ;  or,  Story  of  a  Fly  Rod    .      i  25 

Snagged  and  Sunk  ;  or,  The  Adventures  of  a  Can 
vas  Canoe I  25 

Steel  Horse  ;  or,  The  Rambles  of  a  Bicycle  ....      i  25 

WAR  SERIES.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  4  vols., 
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True  to  his  Colors .'  .  i  25 

Rodney,  the  Partisan i  25 

Marcy,  the  Blockade  Runner i  25 

Marcy,  the  Refugee i  25 

CUR  FELLOWS ;  or,  Skirmishes  with  the  Swamp 
Dragoons.  By  Harry  Castlemon.  i6mo.  Fully  illus- 
tialed.  Cloth,  extra I  25 


ALGER'S 

RENOWNED 

BOOKS. 

BY 

HORATIO 
ALGER,  JR. 


Specimen  Cover  of  the  Ragged 
Dick  Series. 

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writers  of  books  for  boys,  and  the  following  list  comprises  all  of  his  best 
books. 

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Ragged  Dick  ;  or,  Street  Life  in  New  York    ....       i  25 

Fame   and   Fortune ;   or,  The  Progress  of  Richard 

Hunter j I   25 

Mark,  the  Match  Boy  ;  or,  Richard  Hunter's  Ward     I  25 

Rough  and  Ready ;  or,  Life  among  the  New  York 

Newsboys I  25 

Ben,  the  Luggage  Boy  ;  or,  Among  the  Wharves    .       125 

Rufus   and   Rose ;   or,  the   Fortunes  of  Rough  and 

Ready I  25 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  (FIRST  SERIES.) 
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(4) 


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